


Percival Graves wasn't prepared for this

by CupcakeGangsta



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, De-aged Credence, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Graves doesn't really have a shown personality though, House Elves, Implied/Referenced Elf-abuse/murder, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Parent Original Percival Graves, Past Child Abuse, Single Dad Graves, Wizarding Politics, You know since he's not actually in the movie, maybe ooc??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-04-07 11:12:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14079636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeGangsta/pseuds/CupcakeGangsta
Summary: Percival Graves have returned from Grindelwald's captivity and he is trying his best to return to some kind of routine; which is hard when everyone keeps reminding him on what happened with apologies and fruitbaskets he didn't ask for. Though one day when the de-aged obscurus finds his way into the office of the Director of Magical Security Graves is thrown into territory he had never imagined to venture into on his own: Fatherhood.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for NaNoWriMo this year, and figured someone might like it (since it's the sort of fic I wanted to read but couldn't find; so I just write one myself). Don't know if I will continue this though... ._.

You'd think that if the Director of Magical security disappeared something would have  been affacted. More discord, less order, more no-maj witnesses. Anything! But walking down the busy streets of New York it was like he hadn't been gone at all. Which might have been for the better.  Just  imagining the head ache from arriving to a metropolis in chaos made him abandon all those thoughts  . He had to be grateful that his imposter hadn't messed anything up. Or messed anything up more than he'd already had. But MACUSA was handling it  fairly  well.  He had grown tired of the apologies and fruit baskets from employes had sent to apologize over the fact that they had not been able to tell the difference between Grindlewald and himself.

He guessed if he was to give the European any props it would be for his _astounding_ performance. Hey, if the dark lord deal didn't work out he could always settle for becoming an actor.

He had to  subtly  shake his head.

He was doing that again. Becoming unfocused. To let his mind wander and forget about the things around him.  He had hardly noticed the newsies running around, the cars driving past; leaving clouds of bitter smelling clouds of fumes that always reminded him of the war. He wasn't even annoyed at the many no-majs around him that kept shuffling against his shoulder. If he didn't watch himself he could get hit by a car. Or kidnapped again.

There, right there, he did it _again_.

It was a habit he had developed while inprisoned in Grindewald's cupboard. He had had nothing else to do, so it wasn't  really  his fault. All he had had was four walls, a ceiling that smelled of mold and a cold floor.  His skill in wandless magic had  been rendered  useless with magical chackles that disabled all sorts of magical powers. All in all, it had been boring.

He had missed out on so much while being gone. Beasts running amock in his city, and an obacurial ransacking and ruining buildings.

He sighed  internally  at the reminder of the ordeal.  It was because of the obscurial's existense that Grindelwald had impersonated him in the first place.  And even if it had been several weeks since MACUSA had imprisoned the obscurial - a young male he had  been told  \- he still felt aggravated when thinking about what problems it had caused. They were lucky they had magic to repair everything. He did not want to guess the number of digits on the property damage if they hadn't

But it was all in the past now, wasn't it? he thought.  The boy was harmless after the confrontation with the MACUSA agents at the subway station. He was now  being handled by  another department; underage magic use.

Though this case was something extra since the boy had  tecnically  been  legally  of age when he commited the offences, but also lacked such a control over his magic - or _his obscurus_ \- that it could  be classified  as accidental use of magic.  Just  like the ones any magical child experienced in their early years.  He didn't know what age the boy had  been reverted  to, and to be honest he doubted anyone at the Underage Magic Use knew either  .  The massive energy drainage and magical power exposed to the young man during that final confrontation made it hard to even try and track it.  But he had heard small talk about him being at least younger than twelve, since he didn't have the mollars for it, but nothing else.

He realized it was time to cross the street.  Normally  he would  merely  have appareted over.  But his magical powers were still a little out of it to use such powerful spells for trivial things like crossing the street, so he had to walk to work. He tried to think that it was better for his health to get some fresh air. But the cars and vents around him told him otherwise.

He walked up the steps of the bank,  briskly  heading towards the side door no one used to the left of the larger revolving doors, except wizards and witches of course. He recieved a nod from the guard, the nod being a beat too late to be  absolutely  confident. He sighed  internally  , second time that morning.  Somehow everyone kept acting flustered around him now for not realizing Grindlewald had impersonated him. It was frustrating because he actually did not blame them in the slighest. As stated, Grindlewald was an excellent actor and that could not  be held  against them.

Maybe  more regulated security routines would have helped, but he digressed.

To try and establish his point he returned the nod and went through the revolvning doors, entering the MACUSA headquarters to start his day as Director of Magical security.

* * *

 

As soon as he set foot within the hallway of MACUSA he could feel his magical battery raise a few notches by the atmosphere alone. He walked passed the Salem trial monument, rest in peace brethren, and the ceiling disappeared above his head to rise into a church like dome; so high that you could distinguish a thin mist on the top levels, as well as the shapes of various birds delivering messages for their masters and mistresses.  

He glanced up on the dangermeter in the middle of the adjoining staircases and noted that nothing exciting had happened since yesterday. The dials had shifted from _Unexplained activity_ to _High alert_ the night that Grindelwald had been found and arrested. Or, now he was giving MACUSA too much credit, Grindelwald had practically revealed _himself_ that time in the subway. He supposed that was the sole good thing from his kidnapping, that the most powerful dark wizard in the world had been captured. That and they had found an obscurus.  

An obscurus currently residing in this very building.

Damn it, he was doing it again.

He made his way over to the elevators, gracefully avoiding bumping into anyone. It was a morning rush in the foyer. The other employees tended to move out of the way because of his high ranking and their own fear of causing the Director to have a bad morning, but most of the time they were too busy reading over documents or memos for meetings to look where they were going. He didn't blame them, he had been the same ten years back when he was merely an auror. He stepped inside the invention with three other aurors and a secretary, all greeting him with a 'Good morning, sir', which he returned. And together they ascended to the Magical Security department.

Arriving to his office he thought about whether he should give his secretary some vacation. He had tried explaining to her that he held no grudge about her not realizing she had been greeting and keeping Grindelwald up to date every day, but she didn't seem to get it. Instead she worked herself like a hippogriff and she still wouldn't look him in the eye unless he indicated that he found it annoying. Which he did with a clearing of his throat.

She could really use it, but he doubted she would want to go.

He shrugged. Christmas was around the corner, if she wasn't rested up after _that_ he'd apparete her himself to the nearest skiing lodge.

He shrugged of his jacket, hanging it on the hanger by the door together with his scarf, and headed towards his desk.

As if on que the witch appeared in the doorway, the usual clipboard in hand.

"Good morning, sir", she greeted. Either she was pretending to read something over, or she was actually doing a good job.

"Good morning, miss Tocker", he told her and sat down behind his desk. With a wave of his hand his briefcase opened and documents and files he had read over last night fluttered out, neatly stacking themselves on the table in piles sorted by their relevance.

"So, the carpenters will arrive during your nine thirty meeting to fix the door", she said and subtly gestured for the door with her hand.

"I'll be sitting outside as always, but I'd feel safer if you set a enchantments so that no one uninvited comes in."

Ah, that door. He didn't know what had been more surprising: coming back to find out that Grindelwald had taken his identity, or that a muggle had managed to _kick down_ , as he had been informed, his magically warded door to his office. It could have been that Grindelwald hadn't bothered with maintaining the enchantments properly, but it was impressive even still.

"Sounds like a good idea", he nodded.

"Anything else?", he asked her.

She read up a few aurors that wanted his opinion on certain cases and upcoming meetings for the next few days; which he all nodded at. Still with her keeping her eyes glued on the clipboard. Then she left.

"Thank you, miss Tocker", he called after her as she made a bow and walked back to sit by the desk outside in the hall. It wasn't right outside his door, but she could keep an eye on it from the position further down the hall.

That done he sat down by his desk and started looking through relevant material for the meeting starting in less than an hour, bringing down books and other files from a cupboard with a few waves of his hands. He had gone over it last evening, but he wanted to be prepared, as always.

When he felt like he had everything prepared and fresh in his mind he raised his hand to return the files and books to their correct places while packing the essential documents in his briefcase, but nothing happened.

They didn't move an inch.

He gave a curt sigh and let his hand fall to his side.

Wandless magic had become such a habit of his that he sometimes forgot to bring it out when performing such trivial spells as _Leviosa;_ but it seemed like trying to levitate twenty objects simultaneously in different directions was too hard on his magical capabilities. He branded his wand from his pocket and waved it in the air, saying the spell under his breath just to avoid further embarrassment in case a silent one wouldn't have worked.

Luckily it did. He raised the wand once more to cast the enchantment so that he'd know if anyone uninvited went in. It was going to be a little trickier with the doorframe being wide open, because he'd be notified every time a carpenter brushed the barrier. But he could live with that until his door was installed.

Seeing that everything was done he left the office, gave Miss Tocker a nod, and took the elevator to the 67th floor where the meeting was.

He knew when the carpenters came. And he knew when they took down the old door and replaced it with the new one. The carpenters probably knew he knew, if they weren't incredibly low level wizards.  The sensation he had every time a living thing crossed the thin barrier in the door frame was similar to the shills one got when your siblings brushes the tip of their fingers up your neck, or when you got into a warm bath after a long walk in the forest in the winter. It ran up his spin and tingle behind his ears for a few seconds before disappearing into the air.

Luckily he was so used to monitoring enchantments, so it was a minor nuisance during the meeting. He reported the major instances and statistics, which were all on the way to more positive numbers now that Grindelwald was arrested which had set his followers on a lost and confused standstill, which came as a happy surprise to everyone at the table.

Only Picquery had given him the usual nod. She was the only one that didn't toe around the elephant in the room and treated him like before. Perhaps slightly more grateful about his loyalty and competence than before.

Then he discussed and argued about counteracts and the resources the arours needed. Right about then he had another sensation.

Something more... _prickly_.

He let the voice of the Minister of Security fade away while he let his focus switch to his office and the enchantment lingering there. It had been a greater power that had entered. No elf. But he couldn't be sure it was human either.

He must have scowled, because Picquery gave him an inquiring look. He made a move with his eyebrows to signal that _something_ was up, he just didn't know if it was serious or not. She lifted her own eyebrows just a fraction to indicate that he was free to leave if he needed, which he responded to by shrugging because just then he felt the carpenters again.

* * *

 

The carpenters were just packing up when he came back. Tocker was sitting by her desk, idly scribbling down reports and unfolding rat memos that climbed onto her desk top and unfolded with a wave of her wand.

"How was the meeting, sir?", she asked politely. It was usually followed by some sort of instructions for reports or gathering new references and reports.

He replied that it went well, and went to his office. He nodded at the carpenders, who asked him if he liked his new door, and after giving it an inspection said that he did indeed like it. The wood was so newly polished and unblemished that he could easily distinguish his reflection in the dark wood. If it hadn't been for the emplated MACUSA logo he probably could have been able to style his hair.

And when he realized he was doing  _that_ again he took out his wand and waved it before the door while muttering a few spells to synchronize it with his magical aura. He would save the enchantments and protections for when he left for the evening.

Seeing that done he went inside to research about an interesting topic that had arose during the discussions. If he didn't have what he was looking for he'd send Nancy to fetch it in the archives. He would do that, then go for lunch. And after that was another meeting he was to attend. He had a smooth work day in front of him.

Or so he thought when he pushed down the doorknob, starting to open the door

and heard a gasp from within the room.

And suddenly he remembered. He hadn't noticed that strange force ever leaving the room.

He put his shoulder against the door and with his wand still in his hand burst into his office, wand ready to freeze whatever intruder that had dared to walk into his office! Again. Though he did not see anyone at first. He spun both ways, but it was still empty. With a few strides, with his wand ready, he came around the desk; but no one was hiding there.

He scowled.

Homenum revelio, he cast wordlessly.

There was another gasp and he spins around to see the magical marker indicating a human presence by the door. It took him a moment but then he saw them.

It was behind the hanger, and he should have felt silly that he hadn't checked it from the start; but it was another feeling that surpassed silliness.

Complete and utter surprise.

Behind the hanger, was a boy. A young, pale boy in a simple button down and black slacks. And a scared boy by the look of terror in his eyes.

And no wonder, Graves was pointing a wand in his face. He quickly lowered it.

"Ah...", he gawked at the lack of a better word.

The boy didn't say anything. Just stood there, visibly trembling. Graves decided it would be the best strategy to try and assure him that he wasn't going to hurt him, he was clinging to Graves jacket hanging on the hanger, hiding his blushing face behind it. He pocketed his wand.

"Hi there little guy", he tried in the most coaxing way possible.

"What's your name?", Graves asked.

There was a mumble. A quiet voice drifting his way from behind the hanger.

"Credence..."

" _Credence_..."

He recognized that name. Perhaps he had heard it in passing during some coffee break, conference or cocktail party, but it meant the boy knew someone working there. Finding his parents wouldn't be that difficult.

"So, what were you doing in my office, Credence?", he then asked.

The boy blushed.

"I... I wanted to meet Mr Gr...", he stopped himself,"...the real Mr Graves."

For a moment he was even more confused. Then it hit him all at once.

"You're the obscurial", he blurped out.

My, had his time in solitary confinement ruined his self control.

The MACUSA investigators must either have been blind or incredibly unexposed to children, because the obscurial must have been closer to six years of age than ten with those huge eyes and short limbs.

The boy looked troubled all of a sudden.

"And Grindelwald tricked you, while looking like _me_ ", Graves continued.

Credence seemed to think it over, then nodded.

Graves had read the reports and summaries of the situation between Grindelwald and the boy. How he had manipulated him, made him trust him. All to use him to the dark wizard's own gain.

"You do realize that wasn't me, right?", he said.

Credence looked away. Guilty?

"I know, sir...", he said.

"Then why did you come here?", he wondered.

The boy opened his mouth to answer, but right then Tocker appeared in the doorway. Probably alarmed from seeing Graves tackling open his own door. She had her own wand raised as well, but as she wasn't trained in any sort of combat she looked more _terrified_ than _terrifying_.

"Sir, are you alright?!"

Another witch and a wizard appeared behind her. Wands raised in a more intimidating manner.

He waved for them to calm down. Still Credence looked scared again. And according to what Graves knew about Obscurials and Obscurus: scaring them was not good. The witch that had joined his secretary in the door meet eyes with the boy. Then she looked between him and Graves. Then back at Credence.

“Oh dear!”, she said.

"You're not supposed to be here...!", she said. Then she held out her hand for the boy, making a hither motion. To Grave's surprise the boy obeyed and stepped forward to take her hand.

She then looked at the Director of Magical Security.

"I'm sorry sir, we'll keep better track of him next time!"

"Yes, do that", he replied. He didn't have anything against Credence personally, but he didn't want an Obscurial running around MACUSA breaking into guarded offices without a second care.

"Yes sir...!", she said, then she walked out of the room, Credence stumbling behind her on his short legs he probably wasn't very used to. Graves saw how he turned his head to catch a last glance of him before rounding the doorway.

And with that the scene ended.

Nancy returned to her desk.

The wizard continued down the hall.

Percival Graves continued with his day.

* * *

-Days later-

"Madam President, I ask you to forgive my bluntness; but what the hell did you just suggest...?!"

The woman didn't react to his tone like he might have wanted. Or no, he didn't want her to react, he just wanted her to understand that her proposal was ridiculous.

"It's rather simple Percival. We want you to take custody of the boy, it isn't complicated."

"' _I_ _sn't complicated'_ my ass! What good would that do?", he asked. He was standing in front of her desk, she was sitting behind it. He had been called to her office first thing in the morning and had had no idea what she was going to adress. It had been three days since his encounter with the Obscurial, and never in his wildest dreams had he imagined to be asked this.

"We concluded that since he is de-aged we should use this opportunity to let him develop and use his powers, rather than repressing them like the first time around. The Obscurus is already weakened, or that's what our observations have shown."

"And what does that have to do with me?", he demanded.

"Your the best candidate of course! You outrank all your peers, myself excluded, in magical abilities and discipline", she explained, and he deadpanned at her remark about her outranking him. Even if he normally would have been flattered by hearing her say it. 

"You'd be the perfect teacher for him."

"You do realize I have the same face as his betrayer? He would either run away, avoid me, but either way he'd detest me and NOT trust me with anything!"

She gave him a look he didn't recognize.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong Percival. He seems to trust you more than anyone here", she said. She was being smug he realized.

"Based on what? I talked with him for two minutes...."

"That's two minutes more conversation than anyone have gotten out of him."

When she saw his confusion she added:"He's been bordering to mute, only answering in yes and noes."

Yes, he was a little shocked of the reaction he had brought on the boy, and maybe a little flattered, but the fact that Grindelwald had used _his_ face to deceive the boy remained.

He shook his head.

"I can't do it. It's immoral", he told her.

"I don't really care, and neither does the senate, or the congress", she said. Then a scroll fluttered down before her, unrolled itself and she started reading it, as if he had left the room and wasn't still trying to establish his rights as a wizard in a free country.

"When did this vote take place?", he wondered.

She shrugged.

"It hasn't been officially done, but I'm scheduling a meeting this friday."

Sometimes he wondered why he voted for her. Then he remembered it was because she promised good politics after the war. He groaned internally.

"I don't have the time to care for a child", he said, clinging onto the last argument.

She didn't look up from her scroll.

"And I've prompted you to take time off to heal. It adds up rather nicely doesn't it? You can work from home, rest up, get your routines back in order; and contribute to the safety of the country by securing the Obscurial."

"How am I supposed to ' _get my routines_ **_back_ ** _together'_  if I'm having a child moving in with me, involuntarily....?", he chidded.

She looked up sharply at that.

"Graves, if you're so unwilling to do this could you please suggest a better idea."

He opened his mouth to reply, but had to clam it closed again as he realized that he, in fact, didn't have a better idea.

She gave him a sort of _I told you so_ nod.

"The preparations have already been set in motion. I suggest you get your apartment ready for your charge."

He was close to snap at her, but contained himself. He'd just have to prove this arrangement wasn't going to work. But for that he needed evidence. And a better idea for what was to happen to the boy.

"Ma'am", he said, without giving her and absolute yes or no, and walked out of her office.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday is here and Graves hasn't come up with anything to avoid his predicament. Turns out he isn't the only one who's unsure about all this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, people seem to kind of like this, so I wrote another chapter.  
> I tried really hard to be consistent with the style and everything, but be aware of that I wrote chapter #1 more than six months ago, and since then Graves' inner voice has slipped my muse. But I reread the chapter and all my notes, and watched the movie and all the scenes starring Graves thrice, so I tried my best okay? QuQ FYI it took me five rewrites to finally be happy with this chapter. 
> 
> The Kudos, comment (yes singular) and bookmarks really helped spurring me on. Thank you all for those <3 they are very welcomed. That goes for feedback and suggestions as well!
> 
> I want to thank my little sister and my BFF for betaing and pointing out that I abuse pronouns. Love you guys <3

The few days leading up to Friday were not enough for the Director of Magical Security and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to ease up towards the thought of taking care of the young obscurial. Still, he had followed Picquery’s advice about preparing his apartment for the boy’s arrival.

Though there hadn’t been much preparing needed to be made. He hadn’t lived in it for very long and, honesty, was still settling in himself.

During the Director’s stay in captivity Grindelwald had apparently taken the liberty to use Grave’s apartment. When Graves returned he hadn’t stayed for any longer than it took for him to gather his possessions. Even if several wizards and witches had cleansed it from any trace of Grindelwald’s magic he hadn’t felt comfortable enough to stay there. It was like a bad mold infestation. It lingered in the wallpaper. And he could live without having that constant reminder every time he returned home.

The new apartment was larger than his previous one, much to the fact that he needed some kind of outlet for the raise he had been given (even if he had tried to decline it) upon his return. It laid on the third floor in a wizard occupied complex, so he didn’t have to worry about appearating and disappearating to and fro the stairwell. His neighbors all fell into the upper class category, considering that the apartments were rather expensive, and he had yet to find any issue with them.

But back to the preparations.

Groceries had been purchased, the stock of household items had been renewed and the guest room had been tidied up and emptied from his own possessions; since he had used it as a storage for his formal gowns and books and other nicknacks he didn’t need in his office. The objects had been moved into the living room, and the more dangerous ones were put away in his office out of reach of the child. The gowns had easily fitted into his ordinary closet.

Before his involuntary misadventures with Grindelwald he had been in the possession of quite the exquisite collection of suits and robes. But as he had realized that the dark wizard had supplied himself with not just his apartment, but also his wardrobe, he had thrown out, burned, generously donated (whatever you want to call it) most of them to MACUSA. He had visited the tailor shortly after getting back, but hadn't really felt the need to replace _every_ suit. Even if the inside of his closet looked _very_ sad.

Luckily Grindelwald hadn't touched his formal robes. A magic scan had assured that. He didn't know what he would have done to the European if that had been the case.

Which reminded him: Considering that it was doubtful that the boy would have a full wardrobe when he arrived they would have to pay the tailor a visit very soon. He had to remember to call in for an appointment.

But back to the boy’s room.

Graves hadn’t needed to get a new bed. As it was meant to function as a guest room when, per say, his mother would visit him there had already been one. It was an old piece of furniture, handed down from his great grandmother, with a beautiful scene of a forest clearing carved into the wood of the head board; with a matching bedside table. He had really liked it as a child and hopefully Credence would find some enjoyment in watching the carved does and squirrels roam about the scene.

This was one of the few hopes he had concerning the child moving in with him.

And now his wait was up. And since he hadn’t _‘come up with a better solution_ ’ as Picquery had suggested he had no choice but to let them club through the decision.

The vote had, unsurprisingly, gone through on the Friday meeting. He had been given coffee afterwards. It had done little to steady the tension building in his temples. Though he didn’t let this act out on his behavior. He had duties to perform, duties that now included taking care of the obscurial. And even though he was unwilling he wasn’t going to let that make him do a bad job.

As he begrudgingly returned to his office - where he was going to try finish up as much as possible before he finished for the evening. He wouldn’t be able to take any extra work home, which he often did, because he would be busy making sure the boy got at home - he heard someone call his name behind him.

Knowing who it was before he turned around he immediately found himself in a better mood.

“Goldstein”, he greeted as she came up to him.

He wouldn’t be exaggerating if he said that he owed her his life. Her and the Englishman. _Scamander_. Sadly the Englishman had left before Graves had had the opportunity to thank him.

“I heard about the vote”, she said. Her breath was in a light pant from catching up to him.

“Ah, yes...”, he said, pretending that she had reminded him.

“I’m picking him up after I finish today”, he told her.  
“Then I’m staying at home with the boy until Monday, to try and settle some; all that”, he continued.

“I still need to notify my parents though...”, he added as an afterthought.

He was planning on sending a letter explaining he was going to be in charge of a young orphan boy with great magical powers. That it was because of his work. That he, borrowing a page from Picquery, was the most suitable with his own skill in magic.

He was going to leave out that Credence had been _the_ obscurial that had crashed through several buildings in downtown New York just a few weeks prior.

He didn’t see why it would be necessary to share that detail.

“Mhmm”, the auror hummed in agreement; that yes, that sounded like a good idea.

Though there was something fake about the optimism.

He had a hunch about what it was about. He had seen her sceptic face during the vote, which she had attended from the spectators booth. He hadn’t seen much of her after she returned to her auror post, but he had read plenty of her reports to know that she kept herself busy; which in itself was proof enough that she cared about the outcome of the vote.

He placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Goldstein, I know _you_ wanted...”, he started in apology, but she interrupted him by shaking her head.

“No no no!”, she said, waving her hands.

“I mean...”, she bit her lip. She took a pause to gather her thoughts. He waited.

“ _You_ are the better choice”, she said.

“Tina...”

“No, _really!_ ”, she assured him.

He felt his brow deepen, but let her speak. He lowered his arm.

“After the battle, after he turned into a little boy, I’ve visited him every day...”, she told him.

He wasn’t surprised to hear that. He had still been around for her commenced investigation of the Second Salemers.

By the time she had lashed out on the no-maj Grindelwald had already taken over his life.

A No-maj who had been, as stated in the report, abusing the obscurial. Of course, they hadn't known he was an obscurial by then.

A No-maj that was now dead.

He had read the reports on how Tina had managed to calm the boy down in the subway. How the boy had trusted her. Understandable, since she must have been one of the few people to show him kindness.

But the solemn look she wore gave him a sneaking suspicion it hadn’t lasted for very long.

“...but… he won’t say a word to me...”, she said.

She aimed her brown eyes at him.

“That’s why I think you’re the better choice. He talked to you! And he apparently doesn’t want anything to do with me...” Her voice broke in a quiver at the end.

“I’m sure that’s not true, Tina”, he interrupted her.

Then he replaced the hand on her shoulder. Now in a more encouraging manner. He couldn’t stand seeing her push down her self esteem like that.

“You’re an amazing auror and one of the most caring witches I know”, he told her.  
“I’m sure he’s just in shock right now. He’ll come around eventually”, he said, not actually sure what he was talking about.

“Still, I’m honored by the trust you’re putting in me.”

She lightened up a little at that, but didn’t verbally agree with him.

He accepted that that was probably as comforted he could get her.

“You said you’re heading there after work, right?”, she suddenly asked.

He nodded.

“Is it alright if I come with you?”, she asked.

So, she still couldn’t stay away, he mused.

“I would actually appreciate that, thank you”, he said.

He didn’t actually know what Credence thought about the whole ordeal. Credence hadn’t been at the vote, and the Director hadn’t visited him once during the last few days.  
Graves wasn’t sure himself what he feared most.

 _Excitement_ , meaning there was room for disappointment; or _reluctants_ , which would be more awkward but with no expectations to be meet.

Even if the boy apparently refused to speak to her the Director would feel more at ease with her present. It wasn’t everyday you took a child home. Or rather, it wasn’t everyday you were taken home by a man looking like the one who had tried using you for his own gain; as it was from Credence’s perspective.  
Surely it would feel better if someone he trusted was nearby.

The two decided to meet up shortly after six pm.

* * *

 

He worked for a steady few hours; reading reports, sending orders and directions for certain cases, and attending a Magical Law Enforcement meeting. The things he usually did on a Friday. He was just about to return to his office to read up on a case when he remembered the plans for the evening.

He stopped in the door, and with a wordless spell his pocket watch levitated out of his pocket to display the time. It was four to six.

He clicked his tongue, branded his wand, and with a few waves the things on his desk he had left returned to their designated places on his shelves.

Seeing that done he grabbed his coat and scarf, and left.

“I’m finishing for the tonight now, miss Tocker”, he said as he walked towards her desk.

“Ah, alright sir”, she said as she looked up from her work. Then she remembered something.

“The form you asked for arrived.”

“So soon?”, he wondered. He had asked her to get one for him just before he went to the meeting.

She nodded and with a flick of her wand the piece of paper levitated over to the Director’s awaiting hand.

“You won’t be able to send it in until Monday, though. The office is only opened on weekdays...”, she said as Graves looked it over.

“Well, there is no rush”, he soothed her. Next to him his briefcase opened itself and the form slipped itself inside.

“Anything else?”, he wondered.

“No, sir”, she said, shaking her head.

“Well, then we won’t see each other until Monday”, he remarked.  
“I hope you’ll have a nice week-end, miss Tocker.”

“You too, Mr Graves, sir”, she replied, smiling.  
”You and the boy.”

He returned the smile, even if he couldn’t deny that he still felt uncertain about the whole ordeal. Then he bid her farewell and left for the elevator to go to the office for Underage Magic Use.

“Are you nervous?”, she asked him as soon as they fell into a walking pace next to each other.

“You sound like I’m about to get married, Goldstein”, he replied, letting a hint of sarcasm leak into his tone.

She huffed in a chuckle, unsubtly rolling her eyes.

“But, between you and me, I am. _Nervous_ that is”, he admitted.  
“It’s strange”, he said frowning a little.

Throughout his years as an auror he had approved and gone through much more crucial decisions. Decision between life and death. Sometimes after being considered for months, and other times in the moment when there wasn’t any time to weigh the pros and cons. Decisions that would affect many, many more lives than this.

His train of thought was broken by Tina smiling up (as she was slightly shorter) at him.

“I’m sure the Director will be fine”, she said.

He hoped she was right.

* * *

 

The office for Underage use of magic wasn’t anything in particular. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. Perhaps something more… different.  
It had the standard front desk and chairs lined up against one wall for families and likewise to wait by until their case was brought up. The only thing telling you that this office worked with underaged wizards and witches were the children's books and family magazines spread across the coffee table.

The witch from the other day - when Credence had gotten into his office - was sitting behind the desk when they came in. She looked up and smiled.

“Good evening Mr Graves, sir”, she said politely.

“And miss Goldstein”, she said, not seeming surprised over the auror’s presence.

“Good evening”, Graves greeted back.

“Hi Patricia”, Tina said, obviously more familiar with the witch.

“You’re right on time”, Patricia said as she rose from the desk.  
“Credence is right through here”, she told them and nodded towards the door leading further into the office. She walked up to it, peeked her head in and called gently for the boy. That:  
“Credence dear, Mr Graves is here.”

They didn’t have to wait long for the boy to come.

“Here he is!”, the witch announced.

He hadn’t changed much since the first time Graves had seen him. Not that it had been very long. He wore the same type of button down shirt with the addition of a little jacket; that was obviously a hand me down from some previous owner. His expression hadn't changed either. Timid with big eyes. Not sure what he was supposed to do.

“Hi Credence!”, Tina said gently as he tentatively walked up to stand next to them.

As Tina had mentioned the child did not respond, and instead looked at the rug.  

“His things are all prepared. We’re sending with the necessities, but it’s up to you to supply him with a more thorough wardrobe. You’ll be compensated with the expenses of course”, Patricia told the Director as she levitated in a small suitcase from the other room.

“I’ll make sure to bring in the receipts”, he said with a slight hint of sarcasm. In actuality he had plenty of money to go around with. As mentioned earlier most of his paycheck went to pay for his new apartment, but he would by no means run low from the additional costs of keeping Credence well fed and clothed.

“Are you excited to move in with Percival?”, Tina asked Credence as she squatted down to get on his eye level. She gently brushed his arm with her hand.

Graves was a little surprised at the casual name, not that he had anything against it. But then he realized that it was probably for the best to make some sort of distinction between him and Grindelwald, figuring Grindelwald had been, and probably still was, _Mr Graves_ to the boy.

The boy shyly looked at Graves.

Graves took it as his que to speak, as he was the one who was going to take the child home that evening.

“Hello Credence”, he said.

The boy returned his gaze to the floor and the Director didn’t push him for further conversation.

“Is there anything else we need before we leave?”, Graves asked the witch still standing by the door.

“Ah, yes”, she nodded.

“You just need to sign a few things. Technicalities for overtaking custody. But then you’re free to go”, she told him and with a wave of her wand summoned a file holder that had been resting on her desk, and with another for it to open itself to reveal the documents.

“Great”, Graves said, and with a flick of his hand a dip pen flew into his hand, followed shortly by a bottle of ink gently positioning itself next to the file holder; its lid unscrewing itself.

He perused the different paragraphs for a minute. Even if he trusted that MACUSA wasn’t going to sneak anything onto him through the fine print he wasn’t, and would hopefully never be, the type of wizard who put his signature on something he hadn’t even looked at.

“Alright then...”, he said and dipped the golden tip onto the pitch black liquid, waited a moment to let the excess drip off, then placed the nib against the paper.

Right then something whimpered behind him, startling him enough for him to retract the pen from the paper. He turned his head and saw Credence looking at him.

Or, no.

He was looking at _the pen_. As if it was a knife about to stab a puppy.

“ _Credence?_ ”, Graves asked, bewildered.

“What’s the matter, little guy?”

“I’m sorry!”, the boy said.

Next to him Tina gasped lightly. Graves on the other hand felt his eyebrows lift a tad.

“ _‘Sorry’…_?”, he echoed.

“Sorry for what? You haven’t done anything have you?” He glanced at Tina and Patricia for some sort affirmation, but they only had eyes for Credence.

Credence looked even more distressed at his words.

“This isn’t what what supposed to happen!”, he said.

“If I hadn’t gone to Mr Graves’ office none of this would have happened…!” His little voice broke at that, and before Graves could do anything small tears were rolling down Credence’s cheeks. Not that he was sure of what he would have done if he had reacted quickly enough.

“Oh Credence...”, Tina started and held her arms out to comfort him, but was interrupted by Credence mumbling:

“I didn’t mean to be a bother to you! I just wanted to… to see the real Mr Graves...”

Then he hiccuped.

And then it was like someone opened a floodgate.

Maybe it was because Graves was still considered to be a bachelor, or maybe that his only contact with children was through his nieces, but he felt more than handfallen at the scene before him.

Tina was trying to calm Credence down, even if he kept shrugging her hands away, while Patricia remained by the door, hand warily resting above her wand.

Graves understood her worry. To have an obscurial crying his heart out in such close proximity, knowing the extent of his powers, anyone in their right mind did right in being alert.

But she didn’t actually contribute in easing the situation by just standing there, did she?

He let the pen put itself back on the desk, then joined Tina kneeling on the floor by Credence. He wanted to help. He just didn’t know how.

“ _Hey_ ”, he said gently as he tried catching the child’s attention. It didn’t work.

“Hey now”, he repeated, this time more firmly as he placed his palm on the boy’s head. The response was immediate. Credence hiccuped in surprise and looked up at the man. His startled blinks scattering a few tears from his clumped together eyelashes.

Graves kept his palm firmly planted on the tatch of black hair as he asked:  
“Who said you were a bother?”

Credence hiccuped again, not seeming to understand the question. He just stared.

“ _Did I?_ ”, Graves asked, pretending to be bewildered, and looked at Goldstien for confirmation.

She, being an intelligent woman, understood what he was getting at, and shook her head.

“Not that I can remember, sir”, she replied.

“Good. That’s what I thought”, he nodded. Then he returned his gaze to Credence. New tears were quietly making their way down his already drenched cheeks. He sniffed, but didn’t resume the loud crying.

With a wordless spell Graves summoned a folded up handkerchief from his pocket.

“I don’t know where you got that idea from Credence...”, Graves said as the white piece of cloth gently unfolded itself in his hand,”...What I _do_ know is that even if neither of us expected this I’m sure we can make it work if we work together…”, he said and used the napkin to gently dry away the tears; which Credence let him do.

“But you’re not being a bother, Credence...”, he said.  
“Actually I’m sure it will do us both some good with a little company. You see, my apartment gets very lonely at times.”

Credence found his voice at that.

“But you shouldn’t have to do it…!”  
“I know how time consuming it is to take care of children. I don’t want to ruin your job just because no one else wants me...”, Credence said.

From the corner of his eye he could see Tina clench and unclench her hands. But she didn’t say anything. Once again he wondered why she was so stubborn about not taking on the boy herself; then again, she was certain _he_ was the better choice. And he would try not to let her down.

Which is why Graves took his time thinking of a reply. He couldn’t deny that he had been thinking the same things just this morning; just _an hour_ ago.

“We don’t know that”, he finally said.  
“And if it does, if this doesn’t work out _at all…!_ ”, he said, bringing some stress on the words just to be dramatic,”...it’s _not_ the end of the world. Nothing in the documents says this is going to be permanent”, he said, and he actually saw something resembling compliance in the boy’s eyes.

“If we can’t get things together, or you don’t like living with me, we’ll find another solution”, he told the boy.

“We don’t even know if you’ll stay like this forever”, he added, referring to the obscurial’s deaged state.

“But before then: Let’s try. Alright?”

Credence sniffled again. And to the Director’s surprise he nodded. But he didn’t say anything.

Graves didn’t worry about it too much though. Instead he dried away the remaining tears on Credence’s face. When the child lifted his hand to dry his nose with the back of his hand Graves was quick to give it a gently pinch to rid of any snot from the crying. Remembering his mother doing the same. Credence whined at that, but it was more from surprised than protest. When Credence was dry Graves nodded and stood up again, the handkerchief folding itself up and returning to his pocket. He would wash it later.

“Good”, he said. He looked at the two witches who had witnessed the whole ordeal. Patricia looked relieved and Tina was smiling at him encouragingly.

“Where were we?”, he asked.

This time Credence did not protest as Graves neatly signed the different documents. Instead he stood closely pushed against Graves’ leg, a hand timidly holding onto the black fabric of his slacks. His brown eyes following the pen as Graves carefully put his signatures on the required lines and paragraphs, even though the child couldn’t actually see the papers from his short height. Though he seemed content enough.

When all the papers were signed and the appropriate copies were tucked away in his briefcase Graves tapped his briefcase using his wand, then waved it at the suitcase waiting by the door. Both cases lifted into the air, floating gently at waist height, ready to leave.

“Credence?”, he said gently.

The boy tore his eyes from the animated cases and looked at him.

“Are you ready to go?”, he asked.

The boy didn’t answer with as much as a nod, but he did take the hand Graves held out for him, so the Director assumed that he was indeed ready to leave.

“Have a nice evening, miss”, Graves told Patricia.

“You too, sir”, she said.  
“And you too, Credence”, she added and waved for the child.

Credence averted his eyes and didn’t say anything. He had, once more, returned to his muted state.

Seeing that they had no further business there the Director of Magical Security left the Office for Underaged Magic Use with the obscurial in tow, their cases levitating behind them. Goldstein followed them to the door, but had to bid them goodbye since she was going to wait for her sister.

And then the two walked to Graves’ apartment.


	3. The first night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for Credence's first night at the Graves' residence.  
> Some dark details about Grindelwald's stay at the _previous one_ leads to some upsetting, but bearable, conclusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all, again, for the kudos and comments! It's so much fun to write when you know there's someone who actually wants to read it <3  
> And thanks to my Beta (my little sister). I wouldn't dare posting this without your input! 
> 
> More fluff I'm not used to writing, so feedback is appreciated!
> 
> See Warnings at the end, although they spoil details in the chapter.  
> \- Because I like dropping mature topics into my writing. Cuz the world isn't all sunshine and rainbows. FBAWTFT already proves this. -
> 
> Oh, and credits to the New York Times for the headlines I use in this fic. They are all REAL headlines I found in the archive on the New York Times website.
> 
> Oh, _and_ and I completely made up the American house-elf thing. Tell me if you think it's utter blasphemy and we can have a discussion :) Or, we can have a discussion even if you think it's not blasphemy, I like discussing ;)

“And here it is”, Graves announced as he tapped the doorknob with his wand. The lock mechanism clicked proudly before the door gently swung open to reveal the tambour.

He felt a push against his leg and looked down to see Credence looking at the door with a slight look of alarm in his eyes.

Self-opening doors was definitely something the boy was not used to seeing.

Graves patted the boy on the head and walked inside while waving for the cases to move themselves into the apartment. He obviously had had to carry them on the streets between MACUSA and the apartment building, but as soon as he set foot inside the apartment building he had reanimated them to fly into the elevator.

Habitually he brushed off his shoes on the carpet and shrugged of his coat as he came in through the door. It neatly hung itself inside the coat closet to his right. His scarf gently undid itself from its’ loose knot and slipped off his shoulders to stove itself away in the closet; his gloves following suit shortly after.

He turned to make sure the boy followed him inside. To his amusement he saw that Credence was thoroughly dragging his small feet against the rug in the same manner as he had done just before.

But then he just stood there. Shyly looking further into the hall, perhaps seeing parts of the living room that could be seen through the doorway.

"Credence", Graves said, startling the boy a little.

"You may take off your coat", he added, not unkindly. Or at least, not trying to sound unkind.

Credence gained a hint of a blush, but it might just as well have been because of the cold weather they had just endured outside, and started fumbling with his buttons. He then handed it to Graves awaiting hand; who hung it, manually, next to his own.

"Let's go see where you will be staying, shall we?", he suggested. And without waiting for a reply took the suitcase in his hand and started heading into the living room. He heard Credence follow behind him, as well as the front door shutting itself.

* * *

 

He couldn't tell if Credence liked it or not.

The boy walked up to the bed, put his arms on it and pushed down some, as if to test the bounce; and then, after giving Graves a hesitant look, climbed up on it and sat with his feet dangling over the edge.

Was it in approval or meekness? Graves couldn’t be sure.

"Er… Let's get you unpacked before getting something to eat, shall we?", Graves asked and sent the suitcase to rest on the chair by the desk, and with another wave made the locks open. The lid popped up to display the small button ups and pyjamas lying on top. With a flick of his wand the wardrobe swung open, making an _authentic_ , antique creak. Then he made a hither motion with his hand, and the shirts flew out in a neat line like a line of ducklings after their mother.

The socks and undies followed close behind.

He directed them to you hover before the furniture.

"So, how would you like your clothes?"

"Would you like the shirts on the hangers?", Graves asked and the shirts unfolded and hung themselves on the awaiting hangers.

"Or in a drawer maybe?", he asked and two of the shirts left the hangers, folded themselves again while a drawer was pulled out, then placed themselves in it. He looked to Credence for any input, and had to take a double take.

The boy's mouth was hanging open, his eyes huge trying to take in what was taking place in front of him. His hand tensely pushed against the bedding as he was leaning away from it all. As if ready to flee.

Graves heart faltered.

 _Well done Percival_ , a voice said at the back of his mind. He's been here for five minutes and you've already managed to traumatize him!

The clothing articles swayed in mid-air.

Using levitation was such a worked in habit that he hadn't thought twice about it...

He felt his shoulder hunch in a sigh, his doubt returning.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to have the child live with such an advanced wizard as himself when trying to ease the boy up towards the concept of magic…

But at the same time, he thought. Wouldn’t a complete nosedive make the shock easier to process? Like a bandaid. To just rip it off with a held breath? That’s what they did to the very few wizards and witches born to no-maj parents.

The culture shock was difficult, but it worked out more often than not.

He pondered this for a moment. He made a decision.

“Credence?”, he asked.

The boy aimed his eyes at him. Still with that frightened look.

“Any opinion?”, the Director wondered, putting on an extra casual demeanor as he nodded at the clothes.

Credence just stared.

“Alright, I’ll just put them inside then...”

With a flick of his wand the clothes sorted themselves in his own set-up. The vests and jackets on the hangers, the matching slacks hanging with the corresponding top, shirts in one large drawer, socks and undies in another, pyjamas in the third. With everything in place he flicked his hand, and the doors gently shut themselves.

That done he pocketed his wand.

"I'll go fix some dinner, you can wait here and rest some of you'd like", he said.

* * *

 

Credence choose not to follow him. But Graves didn’t mind. He left the boy in the room to entertain himself while he cooked, giving him some time to feel in his new room. Not that the boy had much to entertain himself with.

The Director added that to his checklist. He wondered if his parents still kept the books from when he and his siblings were children. Or if his sister had called dibs on them already. But would Credence even enjoy books for children?

He would just have to investigate it, he decided as he animated the salt mill.

The food in question was roast beef with potatoes. Graves wasn't very used to cooking for more than one. It had been a long, long time since he was an auror in training hurriedly cooking meals between training, lectures and exams. Nowadays he spent his lunches at one of the many restaurants in the area around MACUSA, or somewhere further off, since distance wasn’t really an issue. Dinners followed the same pattern nowadays since he didn’t have an house-elf to cook for him anymore.

But there wasn’t much to worry about. He just had to locate the cookbook his parents had given him when he moved out. The instructions weren’t very different from potion recipes.

Just without a cauldron.

He decided not to experiment with any thermal spells, not on Credence's first evening at least. Though the no-maj invention did its’ job well enough. He had used it to cook breakfast enough times to be familiar with the different knobs and functions. It ran on gas.

He found it strange how no-maj choose to use gas even though so many kept dying in accidental explosions when the gas was left on. He read about it in the papers. Saw it in large letters as he passed by the newsboys in the streets.

_“DENTIST DIES FROM GAS.; Nurse Found Dying in Room with Leaking Gas Stove.”_

_“FOUR ARE KILLED BY GAS.; There Are Victims of Leaking Tubes -- Another Overcome.”_

_“EIGHT KILLED, 30 HURT IN DALLAS EXPLOSION; Gas Escaping During Fire Is Believed Cause of Blast That Wrecks Building.”_

The numbers didn’t seem to have a limit.

Though, tragic as it was, it _was_ an excellent scapegoat for when No-majs witnessed magic activity.

A wizard only had to shout ' _Such a terrible gas leak_!’ at a scene of irresponsible magic use and the no-majs would nod in solemn agreement.

He read the morning’s newspaper, _The New York Ghost,_ while the food cooked. He got hungry as the sweet smell of potatoes and onion sauce drifted through the apartment, threatening to send his stomach into a rumble. It didn't take too long for a quiet pitter patter of feet to sound from the living room.

A thatch of dark hair looked in shyly from around the doorframe.

"Food will be ready soon", Graves told him. "The bathroom is down the hall to the right”, he said nodding towards the hallway.  
“Go wash your hands before we eat please", he instructed. Credence blinked, then left for the hall. Graves had had the forethought to put in a small footstool to make sure the boy would be able to reach the sink. A minute later Graves heard the water run.

Credence came back just in time to see plates, cutlery and glassware sail down to arrange themselves on the small dinner table by the window. A gentle gasp escaped his lips and he stopped in his tracks to look at the gentle movement of the objects. To Graves's relief he saw that it wasn't any fear in the boy's eyes, at least for the moment; just astonishment and wonder.

He waited some, not wanting to interrupt the boy's admiring. He didn't have to wait long though, because as soon as everything had settled down on the table the boy looked at him. The twinkle in his eyes remaining.

"Let's eat", Graves smiled back and gestured for the table.

Credence climbed onto one of the chairs. Immediately Graves noticed the first problem of the evening. The top of the table was aligned with Credence’s shoulders. The chair was too short.

Credence looked at him with a wondering, although polite, look.

“Ah, one moment”, Graves said.

He leaned down slightly and aimed the tip of his wand the the general direction of the chair’s four legs. Credence watched with caution from on top of it. Knowing he had his attention Graves said clearly, so that the boy could hear it:” _Engorgio._ ”

The four legs shot up in length with about two inches. The sudden movement caused Credence to cling onto the back of the chair, eyes once more large and startled. But he seemed to settle after checking the legs again by giving one of them a very gentle kick with his dangling foot. Perhaps to make sure they were stable.

“Better?”, the Director asked.

The child checked the height of the table, which now was more appropriate for his height, and nodded.

“Good”, Graves said and sat down himself.

With a wave of his wand Graves animated the kitchen utensils to serve the food onto their plates. While potatoes, vegetables and pieces of meat was placed onto the flatware Graves noticed Credence putting the napkin that had been laid out for him on his lap; undoubtedly to protect his clothes from any spills.

So the boy had been taught table etiquette, Graves remarked to himself and put his own napkin over his own lap. Magic would just have easily prevented any spilling, but he needed to preserve some energy for the washing up.

Soon the kitchen was filled with the gentle clinking of silverware on porcelain, and chewing. Graves glanced over every once in a while to make sure the boy didn’t have any trouble cutting the food, though he seemed to be handling it just fine.  
Sawing through his meat with his knife and dividing the potatoes into biteable sizes.

Credence didn’t seem to notice Graves’ glances though. His gaze was, as usual, cast downwards as he quietly chewed his food. Sometimes sipping water from his glass.

Though as Graves glanced over another time their eyes meet. There wasn’t anything wrong with having the boy looking at him; still, the Director’s fork slowed a little halfway to his mouth in surprise.

Credence eyes quickly darted away as he realized he had been noticed.

A small hand fumbling with the fork, sending it clattering onto the plate.

A sharp gasp of distress.

All the Director could think was: Oh dear.

“Credence…!”, he said putting down his own utensils.

“I-I’m sorry sir!”, Credence stammered hunching in his seat.

He immediately realized his mistake by using the sharp tone. He didn’t mean to scold  or alarm the boy. On the contrary! He wanted to make sure he was alright. Both of them had been so surprised.

“No. No no, it’s alright Credence”, Graves ushered waving his hand in reassurance.

“It’s alright...”, he repeated when he saw Credence’s look of despair. Looking like Percival was going to throw him out onto the street. _For dropping a fork!_

Credence frowned still. He looked at the table.

“I got sauce on the tablecloth...”, he murmured.

Graves followed his gaze, and yes, there were small dots of brown sauce that must have splattered from the impact of the fork. Credence hadn’t realized it yet, but he had gotten some on his white shirt as well; obviously more focused on the state of Graves’ tablecloth than his clothing.

It broke his heart a little. Such an insecure boy. Immediately putting the blame on himself, even though it obviously had been the man that had startled him.

“Don’t worry”, Graves said and moved to brand his wand. Immediately he could see Credence’s eyes look up in interest, although shy and hesitant. Graves leaned forward slightly, being mindful of the plates of food in front of him (and in such close proximity of his sleeves), and aimed his wand at the sauce splatter.

“ _Tergeo_ ”, he said.

And as if an invisible sponge was sucking up newly spilled water the sauce retracted from the cloth and flew into the air, bringing with it some stains on the fork, disappearing in the vicinity of the tip of his wand.

Credence did not gasp this time, but he still looked equally as amazed as before. Even if a little more guilt struck. Not deserving of the wonder in front of him.

That attitude was really something that needed changing. And soon.

“Still now”, Graves said and aimed the wand at the boy. Or, the boy’s shirt at least. Credence’s eyes widened a little at that, but he didn’t dare move; heeding the Director’s words.

Graves wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

Nevertheless he cast the spell, this time wordlessly, but it had the same effect, of course. The sauce disappeared and the fabric returned to its’ clean white. Seeing that done the wizard pocketed his wand once more.

Looking up from adjusting his sleeve he saw Credence looking down to his stomach, discreetly pulling at the shirt; looking for traces of the sauce.

Adorable.

Credence looked up. A blush tinged his cheeks as he realized the man had seen.

Which reminded him.

“Do you need anything?”, Graves wondered.

Credence seemed surprised at the question. Though he didn’t say anything.

“When you were looking at me before”, Graves elaborated.  
“If you were trying to catch my attention you might have wanted something.”

He glanced at the boy’s glass. It was empty.

“Water perhaps?”

The pitch of water made a move into the air and waited for an order. Though Credence shook his head.

“No… I was just looking…”, he said.

The Director frowned a little. Was there anything of worth to look at? Did he have something on his face? He looked out the window, as it was dark enough outside for it to function as a stand-in mirror, though he couldn’t distinguish anything in particular. Perhaps some sauce in the corner of his mouth, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Looking back at the boy he saw that Credence’s cheeks had paled slightly, and Graves realized that perhaps Credence hadn’t just been looking. Maybe he had been _observing_.

And even more so...

He had been _comparing_.

And in that moment Graves knew that Credence knew that he had realized just that.

The atmosphere around the table suddenly got very awkward.

The boy _had_ said that he knew which ‘ _Mr Graves’_ was real. Still this was exactly what he had been worried about. _Comparison._

What if the differences between him and his imposter were too small to take into accountant? What if Grindelwald had been too good in impersonating him?

Still, he couldn’t get angry with the boy, could he? It would be anyone’s reaction. To analyze. To prove what was true and false.

He cleared his throat.

“So, anything to you’ve taken note of?”, he asked.

He could tell Credence was uncomfortable by the question, being put against the wall like this, but he didn’t back down. To be honest, he was genuinely curious.

“You… you eat your potatoes differently”, Credence murmured after a hesitant pause.

“Our potatoes?”, Graves repeated.

“He mashed his potatoes before eating them”, Credence told him and showed the wizard what he meant. He used the backside of his fork to crush a small part of the previously round and solid potato on his plate into small screws. It’s soft yellow color turning dark from sucking up the sauce almost immediately.  
Credence looked at him in hopes of that he understood.

“I never asked about it...”, he confessed.  
“But he always did that...”

“ _You’ve eaten with him_ …?”, Graves asked, being very careful to not sound alarmed.

He had never heard of this before. And he doubted anyone had. Tina had certainly never mentioned it, and it wasn’t stated in any reports. They had only said that the dark wizard had ‘ _taken contact’_ with the boy. Meetings that never lasted more than half an hour (which, according to Graves, was quite the accomplishment considering that Grindelwald had had to keep up with _his_ busy schedule). Always away, always private; between the buildings in the alleyways where no common pedestrian wanted to walk.

 _That_ alone had been enough for Graves to feel unsettled by Grindelwald ( _more_ so than from the fact that he was a dark wielding wizard who killed anyone who stood in his way to world domination, as well as kidnapping and impersonating Government officials).

The things that could have happened without anyone noticing.

But the idea of Grindelwald being so comfortable that he ate with the boy…  
Even more so to bring him anywhere where Credence would have seen him handle a fork and knife. _Disguised as him._

He suppressed a shudder.

Luckily Credence did not sense the adult’s discomfort.

“He took me out to eat sometimes when he noticed I hadn’t eaten...”

“The flyers…”, a pause as if he was unsure Graves would know what he was talking about. “…had to be handed out before we went home for dinner...”, Credence explained.

More like _if_ you were to get any food at all, Graves concluded by the look of Credence’s eyes that seemed to grow deep and sad at the memory.  
And he had a feeling what _else_ happened if the flyers weren’t handed out before you returned home.

But he didn’t want to talk about that now. It was his fault for reminding the boy.

“Where did he take you to eat?”, Graves wondered, trying to steer away the topic once more. Not necessarily to a better one, but one he could have use for. Had Grindelwald taken Credence to _his_ apartment? Surely not with the risk of the neighbors seeing.

He didn’t have to ponder long though as the boy answered while shrugging.  
“Different restaurants...”

So no hidden headquarter of Grindelwald they didn’t know about. Not that Grindelwald seemed like the type who cooked his own meals and invited guests over for dinner.

“You _cut_ your potatoes...”, Credence bringing back the topic himself.

Graves looked at his plate. He had never analyzed in what manner he consumed his food. But the boy was right; he did cut his potatoes rather than mashing them. Why anyone _would_ want to mash them was beyond him.

“You’re different”, Credence said.

Graves wanted to point out that: Yes; yes of course Grindelwald was different from him. But he felt that Credence was trying to confirm something for _himself_.

“I…”, Credence trailed.

“I can tell you’re not him. _You’re you_ ”, Credence said. By the slight _push_ in his tone it was clear that he was trying to be firm in his statement. To be convincing.

And the Director _was_ feeling more convinced. Not necessarily _entirely_ , his worries weren’t going away so soon, but it was a start.

“You get it?”, Credence asked with a slight tilt of his head at the lack of a reply.

Graves scoffed. Not at Credence’s want to make sure he understood, but at the question itself. You weren’t very used to hearing ‘ _You get it?’_ when working as Director of Magical Security and Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

The boy’s choice of phrasing felt like a breeze of fresh air.

“Yes, _I get it_ ”, he chuckled.

“And I’m glad for the conclusion”, he continued.

Though the conversation did awake another question he wanted answered. And since Credence was being so talkative…

“Tell me Credence, how old were you… previously to this?”, Graves asked.

“I’m…” A pause. A pair of eyebrows coming together in thinking.

“I _was_ going to turn eighteen this summer...”,  Credence said.

“And how much of that almost-eighteen year old is still left in there, would you say?”, Graves wondered.

This was (or what he felt like was) the most important question of the evening. Of the entire stay really. Because to keep a young man and to keep a young child were two very different things. The wizard was equally as willing to do either, considering he didn’t actually have a choice in the matter. Still, he needed to know what to expect.

The last thing he wanted to do was to patronize the mentally mature young man by treating him like a child; but at the same time he couldn’t neglect a mentally as well as physically young one by putting too high expectations on him regarding rules and obedience.

It took longer to come up with an answer this time. Which, to Credence’s credit, Graves found to be more mature than if he had given him a blunt, unthought-through answer.

Finally, Credence sighed.

“To be honest I’m not very sure, sir.”

He looked out the window, no doubt seeing his own reflection in it.

“I don’t really remember what it _felt_ like to be a child, so I can’t really compare or be certain. I remember everything that happened. But my feelings are sort of… _dulled_ on certain things…”, he said.  
“It’s like everything happened a very long time ago. Or to someone else. That I’m just hearing about them now...”

“Though I seem to get more upset more easily over other things.”

“And I cry… and can’t seem to stop...”, he said, scowling. “ _Like a child…_ ”, he mumbled at the end. As if it was a bad thing.

“Credence”, Graves interrupted before the boy could divulge on any deeper self loathing. Brown eyes aimed at him again.

“Just so you know, I won’t be angry if you ever ‘ _act like a child_ ’, as you are putting it”, he began.

“I severely doubt anyone would be. We don’t know how you are going to be affected by _this..._ ”, he said, gesturing - for the second time that day - for his young state.

“There might be mental changes as well as the physical ones. But I don’t think you should worry too much. I didn’t know you before, but I would say you are much more mature than any other _child_ I have ever encountered...”

Credence frowned a little at that, once more embarrassed, but he seemed to understand what he was getting at.

“With that said...”, he continued on a lighter note, though still keeping the serious one. “I expect you to follow rules and such things with the mindset of a responsible young man who _thinks_ before he _acts_. I have many dangerous instruments and magical objects here in the apartment, as well as in my office at MACUSA. But as long as you do as you’re told we shouldn’t have any problems. Which shouldn’t be too hard, considering you seem to have stayed out of trouble up to this point.”

 _Excluding acquainting yourself with dark wizards_ , a voice in his mind added as a side note. Though he didn’t say this out loud of course.

With the irony aside it was actually true. Credence Barebone had never personally caught the attention of the authorities. Or, the No-maj ones at least. The second salem  group had been investigated by MACUSA - it was how Goldstein had gotten involved with the boy in the first place - but Credence had always been kept in the background. Handing out leaflets. Being set as an example.

Credence blushed at the praise, which, in Percival’s opinion, suited him much better than being pale out of fear and guilt.

“How does that sound?”, the Director asked.

Credence had nodded. _Good_. It sounded good.

“Excellent”, Graves said.

“Now eat up”, he said as he glanced at the clock.  
“It’s getting late.”

The two males made a quick business of the remaining food, and Graves animated the dishes and the rest of the kitchen to clean up (with a verbal spell directed by his wand). He could tell Credence wanted to stay and watch but he had to be firm. He wanted the boy to take a bath before he was put to bed, and Credence was already starting to become sleepy. Staring into empty air with his chin gently resting in his hand as fatigue started seeping into his system.

“Credence”, Graves had had to call from the doorway. Credence had blinked and gently shook his head to rouse himself awake.

”Your bath is waiting.”

* * *

 

While the Director was busy waving his wand to prepare the towels and soaps Credence had already slipped out of his clothes and started to tentatively try the water by dipping his hands in it over the porcelain edge. Steam had started collecting on the mirror above the sink indicating the warmth of the water, still the child seemed surprised over the temperature, as a small gasp escaped his lips.

Graves couldn’t help but wonder if they had even had hot water in the chapel.

“Do you need any help getting in?”, the wizard asked as he realized that the edge of the tub was rather tall for a child to climb over, even with the stool that stood dutifully waiting underneath the sink.

Credence didn’t reply. Just stared at him with his big brown eyes. Nor did he protest as Graves started rolling up his shirt sleeves. And he did nothing but inhale sharply at the warm water when Graves hoisted him into the bath.

The Director left the actual washing up to the boy with the assistance of an animated sponge, as he felt like the two of them weren't quite _there_ yet.

He had stayed in the room, directing Credence’s clothes to the laundry basket, and the clothes one could use again tomorrow to fold up neatly and be sent to the wardrobe; and for Credence's pyjamas to be laid out for when he was clean and ready to be fished back out of the water.

When Credence had been scrubbed clean Graves did his best to get him dry without being too rough with the towel; using a very convenient hot-air charm to get the last dampness out of Credence’s hair.

Seeing that done Credence was put into his pyjamas and his hair brushed through so that his bowl cut laid neat and even over his scalp.

“Would you like something to drink before bed?”, Graves had asked him.

Credence had shook his head.

“Something to eat?”, Graves inquired, even if they had had dinner just before.

Credence had shook his head once more, apparently back to silence.

“Then go brush your teeth, please”, Graves said, ushering the boy towards the sink where his toothbrush was already waiting.

He brushed his teeth by himself. Percival couldn't remember doing that as a six year old.

And so, newly bathed and with brushed teeth, Credence was ready to be put to bed.

“Would you like an extra pillow? A blanket?”

Another shake in the negative. Either the the boy just was that urgent not to be a bother or he was just that tired and was rushing through the questions so that the Director would finally leave him to let him get some sleep.

Percival was leaning towards the aforementioned.

“You sure you're comfortable then?”, he asked one final time.

A nod. Nuzzling Credence’s small cheek into the pillow.

“Alright then”, he accepted with a gentle sigh. As much as he wanted everything to be perfect he couldn't force his guest. _With that said_ he was still worried that the meek boy would still refrain from speaking up when he actually needed something.

“Goodnight Credence…” As he said this he reached out his hand and gently brushed the boy over the hair.

He could immediately see Credence tensing a little under the covers from his touch, and for a moment he became scared that he had been to abrupt. Though it seemed to be from surprise rather than displeasure as Credence soon relaxed again; letting himself enjoy it.

He yawned, shutting his eyes in the process.

“Goodnight, Mr Graves”, he mumbled against the pillow.

Graves, remembering what Tina had already hinted at earlier that day, said:  
“You may call me Percival, now that we are going to live together...”,  
as he continued petting the boy over the hair

It took a few moments, so long that Graves started suspecting the boy had already fallen asleep and not heard; but then it came, a whisper:  
“Goodnight Mr Percival...”

Still with the mister… though he supposed it was an improvement.

“Goodnight”, Graves whispered in response, letting his hand drift down to the boy’s cheek, caressing it in a small circle with his thumb. He couldn’t be sure if the boy was just snuggling into the pillow, but the gentle move of his head seemed to move into his touch.

The sudden intimacy made Graves feel a warmth in his chest.

He then carefully stood up from the chair he had pulled up by the bedside. Said chair gently lifted itself back to the corner while he walked out, not closing the door all the way to let the light from the living area spill in over the rug.

He wasn’t sure the boy wanted it or not, but he rather be safe than sorry just in case the boy was scared of the dark.

He checked the small grandfather clock sitting on top the mantelpiece in the living room. It was just after half past eight. Nowhere near the time he went to bed.

He went to his study which laid further into the apartment. The enchanted fireplace alighting itself as he came in through the door. Immediately a number of memos and sealed cases crackled out of the flames, that flashed green, to sail to the mahogany desk. His briefcase, which had already placed itself inside the study when he arrived home, clicked open to let its’ content join the rest of the papers.

Though one paper arc didn’t seem to know where to go.

It fluttered and swayed back and forth in the air, obviously lost, until it landed itself into the Director’s outreached hand. It was the application Miss Tocker had provided him with. He had forgotten about it.

There was no hurry to finish it, considering it couldn’t be handed in until Monday, but it was always nice to finish up the paperwork before he went to bed. He was planning to get some work done tonight anyway, especially since he was going to have to spend the upcoming day with the boy.

He laid it aside for when he had finished the more urgent things. Like reading the summary from the Obliviation department’s Friday meeting. And writing the letter for his parents. - Which proved to take longer than he thought. -

It wasn’t until half past nine that he could send the letter into the green fire to arrive at the postal office. His parents were on a trip to the Mediterranean and would return within the next week.

Seeing this done he turned to the form he had laid aside.

It was a rather long and tedious application. _Reason for applying -_ written motivation required - _Previous mastership of house-elves_ \- written details of reason for ended ownerships required - together with a long list of details. _Prefered gender, prefered age, prefered temper_ etc.

It was an application to receive a house-elf.

Unlike _European house-elves_ American elves didn't come as naturally to wizard families. Practically all house-elves had been imported during the colonization, and thus the few descendents of those who had made it over the ocean were still bound to the descendants of the first settlers’ family. The Graves family had their own set of house-elves, but no one to spare for their second eldest.

Of course this didn't mean that no one but old rotted wizard families could have an house-elf of their own; you just had to apply for them. Unless you had a large old mansion to attract them for you; which, even though his apartment was large and excessive, the Director's didn't.

These circumstances obviously made the little creatures more sought after than in Europe, hence the bureaucracy. Assigning house-elves to masters who ie (as the example text on the form read) ‘ _keep using the house elves for finding side effects of self discovered potions’_ was considered bad for the already small elf population.

Considering what had happened to the last one he was actually in the risk of being declined one himself. All he could hope was that the OHEA ( _Office of House-Elf Assignment_ ) would be lenient considering it had been an identity stealing dark wizard who had been at fault.

Not wanting to turn the train of thought more depressing he pushed the reminder of his previous elf away; if he didn’t he’d need a glass of Dragon Barrel.

He was writing indifferent lines on the details list when he felt a tingle on the hairs of his neck. He looked up.

“I thought you went to bed”, he said.

Credence stepped out from behind the door frame. He looked a little guilty, much like any child that couldn’t sleep and had to resort to going up again.

“It’s late”, Graves said and set the dip pen down as a sign that he was open to converse.

Graves thought back on what his nanny would have done to him in the same situation.

“Would you like some warm milk or something?”, Graves asked.

Credence shook his head.

Instead he eyed the documents on the table. Graves followed his gaze.

“You may sit and watch for a little while if you want”, he said, and with a wave of his wand a chair positioned itself before the desk.

Credence took the invitation and trotted over.

“What are you doing?”, he asked timidly as he climbed into the chair.

“I’m filing to receive a new house-elf”,  Graves replied.

“What’s a... a house-elf?”, the boy wondered.

“It’s a servant of sorts”, Graves explained.  
“You’ll see them in MACUSA on Monday. The one who will live here will do the chores in the house. Which is handy since I don’t really have time for that.”

Credence seemed to consider this.

“What about the weekends?”

The Director didn't understand at first, but quickly understood what the boy was getting at.

“House-elf don't take days off. They work every day of the week, and they don't get paid”, he said. Credence seemed even more confused.

“So they’re like… slaves?”, Credence asked, clearly baffled by the possibility.

“No, not really. The thing with elves is that they have very different… _views_ concerning life compared to us humans. They’re in great need of... _purpose_ , to put it lightly. Their whole species devote themselves to serve wizardkind, and they are very happy to do so. Elves are very loyal to their masters, and they have quite powerful magic as well making them excellent servants. It's a very convenient coexistence between two different species…

“If you don’t understand you may ask an elf on Monday. I’m sure they would be glad to explain to you.”

Credence seemed to think this over.

“What happened to the last one?”, he asked.

Percival realized his mistake immediately. He internally cursed himself. ‘ _New’._ How could he have been so stupid as to say ‘ _New’_?!

“She disappeared”, he replied quickly.

It had been a white lie. There was no way he was going to share the details of that poor creature's fate.

But either he was far worse at lying than he gave himself credit for or Credence just keen enough to see that the subject upsetted him; either way there was no doubt that Credence understood what had actually happened to the elf.

The little creature that had tried to defend its master when it understood that Grindelwald had been an imposter.

An imposter trying to find an obscurial in New York.

An obscurial sitting across from him over the desk.

Graves saw how the little face fell as the boy made the same connection. Or at least something close to it. The boy’s breath hitched suddenly.

Graves shifted in discomfort as big tears started rolling down the boy’s cheeks, as he wasn’t sure of how to comfort the child. Still he pushed back his chair and got up to walk around the desk.

“Credence...”, he said rounding the furniture, then had to stop as he noticed something. Something that sent the hairs on his neck to stand on end.

Around Credence’s left ankle, that peaked out from the flannel pyjamas, a dark, ashy wisp of smoke had started snaking its’ way towards the floor. And even though he had never seen it in person he knew what it was from description.

The obscurus.

Credence sobbed.

He knew instinctively that he had to calm him down. The question was: _how_?

“Credence. _Credence_ , it wasn’t your fault”, he said as gently as he could, even with his heart beat racing.

He started going over scenarios in his head just in case everything went to _hell_ in his office.

Could he stop the obscurus by incapacitating the boy? Would a sleeping spell do it, or would he have to be more extreme and stun him? He didn’t want to do that, but would if he had to. Or maybe it would be better to try and get as much distance between himself and the boy just in case the obscurus was too powerful. Especially now that his own magical powers were so limited. But did he even have enough energy to disapparate if he needed to?

As he thought this he neared the boy. He tried to still seem calm in his stance, as it would probably make the boy even more upset if he thought he was scared of him.

Tears continued rolling down the child’s cheeks and he clutched to the fabric of his pyjama shirt, wringing it over and over in an attempt to get a grip of his emotions. When he didn't succeed he let out a wail.

A small, unnecessary voice at the back of his mind wondered if the neighbors were able to hear it.

“Credence, _it wasn’t your fault_ ”, he repeated.  
“You didn’t know. You hadn’t even meet him by then…”, he continued, trying to reason with him.

Though by how the black tendrils continued spreading down the chair’s legs towards the floor it didn’t work.

His mind went to the reports he had read.

Tina Goldstein had calmed the boy down by talking to him. Problem was that while she possessed natural maternal instincts and had investigated the boy for quite a while by then, the Director had nothing. He had had him in his house for less than six hours and he had no parental instincts whatsoever.

Or... there was actually _one_ impulsive urge at the back of his head.

The same sort of urge from earlier today at the Office of Underage magic use that had made him put his hand on the boy’s head.

He decided to follow it.

He took the last steps forward, bent down and scooped up the bawling child into his arms.

To his relief Credence let himself be removed from the chair without any resistance.

He hugged him to his chest and tried hushing his crying, much like his own mother  and his nanny had done to him as a child, hoping the fabric of his undershirt, dress shirt and vest combined would block out his rapid heart beats.

“It’s alright”, he told him.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s okay”, he said firmly as he moved his palm in soothing circles on the small back that was shaking in sobs.

It didn't seem to work either.

The black tendrils continued spreading down his own legs to reach the floor again, hissing and seemingly whispering as it moved around. He felt it on the outside of his slacks. On the hand supporting Credence’s neat weight. It wasn’t like any sensation he had had before. It was cool and slippery, like oil, but at the same time hot with the strong emotions that didn’t have another outlet than to turn into smoke.

And he was really starting to doubt that he could calm down the obscurial on his own.

But wait, he thought as his brain wracked for ideas. If he couldn't comfort him like Tina perhaps it would be better to… _let it out_ …?

 _Yes_ , he thought. Instead of bottling it up and trying to suppress them, to _deny them_ , why not let them show? And seeing _it_ was the best way to do just that...

“It’s alright to cry”, he heard himself say.

“You couldn’t have done anything to stop it, you didn’t know; but it’s alright to cry for her”, he continued and held the boy close to his chest.

To his surprise, and slight relief, he felt a pair of short arms wrap themselves behind his neck - Credence was responding to him! -

The crying continued. However, he felt like it was more under control now that he had more contact with the child.

“That’s a good boy”, he murmured as he continued stroking his back.

“You’re a good boy Credence, you didn’t do anything wrong...”

And as tears continued rolling, now without being held back, the black smoke turned into a light ash grey. It was a slow process, but it was prominent enough that the Director knew it was working.

Little by little the smoke-like magic climbed back up to the boy and disappeared. As it traced the fabric of the wizard’s slacks he could tell it wasn't hot anymore; you could barely describe it as warm.

And then, after almost half an hour, nothing remained but quiet sniffles and a wet cheek pressed against his shirt.

He didn't know when it happened, but at some point he had started rocking the two of them back and forth by gently shifting the weight of his feet.

The Director of Magical Security glanced at the clock. It was past eleven.

He felt a stir in his arms. Credence sniffled.

“Mr Percival?”, he asked in a hoarse voice.

“Yes, my boy?”

The little boy sniffled again, his nose obviously runny.

“I’m sorry your elf died...”, he said.

Graves realized something just then: Credence, a boy raised among wizard-hating No-majs, who had only just now heard of this elf’s existence, was the first one to say this in consolation to him. Not even his family members had remarked on her absence other than that: ‘ _You ought to get a new one soon’_.

Not even the aurors tasked to search his apartment hadn't said much even when discovering the small, charred bones in the fireplace.

Another reason for why he hadn't stayed in his last apartment. Another detail he was not going to tell the boy.

“I’m sorry too”, Graves told him quietly.

Credence moved around some and managed to dry of his snotty nose on the fabric of his pyjama shoulder, or that’s what Graves assumed he did because suddenly he was breathing without sounding stuffy.

“Did she have a name?”, Credence asked him.

“Of course…”, Graves nodded.  
“ _Iggy_ . Short for _Ignatia_ , the inventor of Floo Powder. It’s what turning the fire green”, he explained, referring to the fire still burning in the fireplace.

“I’ll show you how it works sometime”, he said, pushing away the sickening irony of the name he had chosen for the elf so many years ago.

“Iggy...”, Credence mumbled.

What the boy did with this information the Director didn’t know. Perhaps he asked her, too, for forgiveness, or said a prayer in his heart. Whatever he did it only took a moment. Then, undramatically, the grip around Graves’ neck went heavy; and the Director of Magical Security knew the obscurial was asleep.

He let out a sigh of relief. Controlled enough to not disturb the child, but deep enough to relieve some high strung tension.

This was going to be a fun report to write..

He looked around the room. His sterling watch flew out of his pocket and he looked at the time. At the documents still laying on the desk. He looked at the boy. Again at the time.

The Director yawned.

That settled it. It could wait until tomorrow.

The watch pocketed itself.

He went to his room, the child still sleeping in his arms. The covers and duvets uncovered themselves with a tired wave of his hand, and he set down Credence on the soft mattress.

He had considered putting him in his own assigned bed. But only for a second. The thought of Credence waking up alone completely eradicated it from his mind.

He made a quick deal of changing into his pyjamas and brushing his teeth before climbing into the bed.

He hesitated for a moment, but remembered Credence's forthcoming reaction to his earlier gesture of intimacy. He laid himself comfortably on his side and gently, very gently, snaked in his arm underneath Credence’s head to act as a makeshift pillow as he scooted closer. Since Credence didn’t even as much as stir he trusted that it was comfortable enough. If not the boy could just as easily adjust it in his sleep. With a final wave of his hand the cover climbed up to cover them both and the lamp on his nightstand shut off.

And as he laid there in the darkness, listening to the soft breaths of his charge laying snuggly against his arm, he couldn't help but wonder:

What on _earth_ was he getting himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for dark themes in this chapter, including INDIRECTLY SUGGESTED sexual abuse and INDIRECT description of the murder of a house-elf, which includes burning of bodies.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to put Graves' domestic abilities to the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy with the beginning.  
> I'm not as happy with the middle.  
> I'm happy with the end.
> 
> The day of a writer.
> 
> Thanks for all the reviews and kudos guys~  
> I'm sorry that I take so long to update, but that's just how I write.  
> I just hope I get the Christmas chapter done in time for December. It's getting cold over here, which really puts me in the mood of writing :)  
> (NaNoWriMo 2018 is coming up though, which may or may not cause a problem depending if I decide to write the PJO I was planning...)
> 
> And I didn't forget Graves is a Director rather than a Minister, and have written it all over the previous chapters! *cough cough* You can't prove that...!

When he woke up Percival Graves had completely forgotten about the previous night’s ordeal. So you can imagine his surprise when he tried stretching in a yawn and realising that something was restraining his arm.

His eyes flew open in alarm, though he immediately calmed down again as he looked down and recognized the top of a familiar bowl cut resting against him.

The boy was, remarkably, still sound asleep.

It was still early in the morning and the curtains were thick, but there was enough light for the Director to tell that Credence had moved closer to him during the night. He was practically laying flush against him, his cheek mushed up against his chest; smelling faintly of bathing soap.

Last night…

The appearance of the Obscurus…

It was hard to believe that someone sleeping so peacefully in his arms held such a dark, corrupt manifestation of magic inside of them.

He shifted a little to get comfortable, and had another surprise. If he wasn’t mistaken there were a pair of small feet nestled underneath his pyjama shirt to meet the bare skin of his stomach. Obviously to steal some warmth.

It was a miracle how those had gotten there without waking him up. (Not that anyone besides his siblings knew he was ticklish.) He’d have to get the boy some socks if it was cold though. And slippers perhaps.

Slippers would surely be nice in the mornings.

He looked at his alarm clock and saw that he had about twenty minutes before it went off.

Apparently he was supposed to ‘ _sleep in’_ the days he wasn’t working. He hadn’t done that since he was a teenager with the exception of long holidays (though he rarely got to actually _go_ on vacation for those anyway) and he wasn’t planning to start either.

But today he didn’t think he would mind staying in bed for a little longer. With a flick of his hand the alarm clock was temporarily disabled.

As he laid there waiting for Credence to wake up he thought about Iggy. This time a day she would already have had collected the day’s newspaper from the corner store - where she would pick up on some gossip from the other house-elves of New York - to then sharpen his shaving knifes and prepare hot towels, iron his clothes and polish his cufflinks and other silver accessories. Then she’s start on the breakfast while he prepared himself in the bathroom.

Since it was a Saturday she'd make something special. Bacon muffins with poached eggs, grit porridge with butter or Belgian waffles with powdered sugar... Whatever it was there was always fruit on the side depending on the season.

He nodded ever so subtly against the pillow.

Yes.

That’s how she would have liked him to remember her by: Her diligent servitude. Not her tragic and abrupt end.

At least he hoped it had been abrupt, rather than--

_Stop it Percival!_ , he scolded himself with a curt sigh.

Suddenly someone whined.

That someone was Credence.

At first Credence’s eyes scrunched up into a frown at the rude disruption of his head-rest, but soon he was blinking to try and orient himself. As he moved around, stretching and whining gently, Graves noticed that the boy had something on his cheek. It took him a second to realize it was an imprint from one of his shirt buttons.

He scoffed.

“Good morning”, he said. He kept his voiced hushed to not rouse the child too much.

Credence sleepily rubbed the salt crust out of his eyes. He yawned, then sluggishly opened his eyes to meet the wizards’.

There they froze and processed what he was seeing.

And suddenly Credence was _very_ awake.

His eyes darted around, confirming that he was inside a bedroom that _wasn’t_ the one he had been shown last night, and he quickly sat up getting some space in between them.

“M-mr Grav--!” He started, but gulped and corrected himself to:“ _Percival_ ”. Which was quite the feat for first thing in the morning.

“ _Credence..._ ”, the Director dittoed. Though his tone was nowhere as riled up.

“Did… did I fall asleep here?”, Credence wondered looking around again.

The wizard shook his head.

“No, you fell asleep in the office. I carried you in here. I wanted to make sure you slept well”, he said answering the unsaid question.

He then furrowed his brow in pretend concern as he prompted himself up on one elbow.  
“Because you did sleep well, right?”

Credence blushed, but nodded.

“Good”, Graves said and patted him on the head, silencing any more questions.

“I’m going to take a shower. You can stay in bed if you want to, then we’ll have breakfast when I’m done”, Graves said.

“How’s that?”

Credence nodded again, then hesitantly laid down beneath the still-warm covers.

* * *

 

When Graves emerged from the bathroom again the boy was tangled up in the duvet, fast asleep again. He looked even smaller in the bed, surrounded by all that bedding. And very cute.

As much as it pained him to disturb his sleep again he gently shook the boy awake and ushered him to his room to get dressed. Meanwhile he went into the kitchen to start preparing the food; a chore he wasn’t very used to doing.

He used his wand along with plenty of Accio spells to bring out the frying pan, toaster and a pot for porridge along with the food from the ice box and cabinets. He did all this from a comfortable position by the table while skimming through the morning headlines.

(The paper had arrived via the fireplace.)

Credence soon joined him, wearing a clean button up and the vest from yesterday and they started cooking together.

Or rather: Credence kept watch over the toaster while the Director did everything else. The boy wasn’t able to do much else, but the small contribution was very welcomed in the otherwise empty and quiet kitchen.

And there were other things that brought a completely different joy to the task.

The voice tentatively calling for his attention when the bread turned brown on one side and were ready to be flipped.

The small expectation in the brown eyes when the Wizard turned, waved his wand and the pieces of bread obediently flipped themselves.

The hands eager to help pouring juice.

It was unfamiliar, but pleasant.

While they ate Graves tried to explain different headlines Credence kept glancing at. Like, _why there was an astronomy forecast_. And, _why bowtruckles would be defensive of their Christmas trees._ And more importantly: What _was a bowtruckle._

While he talked Credence reached for his glass and brought it to his lips, being very careful to support the weight of it with his little hands.

He sipped it.

Then promptly spat it back out.

This, as you can imagine, caused some scrambling around the table in search for a napkin.

“Mr Percival…”, he had said very quietly.

“Yes, my boy?”, Graves had said as he wiped off the orange liquid from the boy's chin.

“I think your juice has expired...”

Graves furrowed his brow and waved for the bottle, which floated to his hand, then turned it over to look at the print. It furrowed deeper at this and he had unscrewed it and smelled it. Then he had tasted it just to be sure.

“I can’t find anything wrong with this...”, he said.

Credence didn’t protest. But he didn’t look convinced either.

“Give it another try”, the Director said.

Credence glanced at the glass, then back at the man. Perhaps contemplating what sort of society he had been brought into where people drank spoiled juice.

“Go on. I’ll get you some milk if you still don’t like it.”

Being too timid to put up a fuss Credence complied. He sipped it again and held it in his mouth for a moment. He frowned at first, then, to Graves’ slight relief, the little eyebrows lifted in surprise rather than to contort in disgust.

He swallowed and said:  
“This tastes like pumpkin pie!”

“I'd hope it does”, the wizard nodded and glanced at the bottle. It did say _pumpkin juice_ , didn't it?

“Do you like pumpkin pie?”, he wondered.

Credence nodded.

“We’d buy a slice sometimes during Thanksgiving at the café by the station.” Then he sipped his juice again.

The Director had no idea which café he was referring to.

What he did know was that he'd had to remember to order more juice.

They finished up without further disruption and this time Credence was allowed to watch the entire animated clean-up of the kitchen, which he seemed very content with doing. When it was done and the last plate was tucked back into the cabinet Graves grabbed the newspaper then waved for Credence to follow.

“Come, let me show you how floo powder works.”

He started off easy, composing a brief letter to his tailor concerning when they would be able to perform a measuring.

“Watch”, he said and took down the container from the mantelpiece.

It had the shape of an urn with a pattern of silver birch trees. Small snowflakes fleeted between them as the season demanded. He didn't use it often, as he prefered apparition over the floo network for short distances. For all the reports and memos he sent back and forth to the office the mantelpiece was enchanted to drop a small amount of floo powder when the pieces of paper was sent into it. Their designated destination being the mail room on MACUSA.

He opened the lid, took a pinch of green powder and threw it into the fire, which immediately blazed with green tinted flames.

Credence looked on in wonder on a safe distance behind the wizard’s legs.

“I’m going to throw in the letter, then say the destination. After that we’ll just have to wait for a reply.”

Credence looked at the fire. His brow creasing slightly.

“But won’t it burn?”, he asked.

“No. It’s magic fire”, the man assured as he combed his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“Excellent question though”, he noted.

“You ready?”

Credence nodded.

The wizard threw in the letter and said, clearly:  
“ _The Nimble Thimble, New York City._ ” And with a light crack the letter went up in smoke. The fire turned orange again.

The boy walked up to the fireplace and peered into the flame, as if he could tell letter-ashes from normal ashes.

“Is it _gone_?”

“Yes, dear boy. Now, _careful_ ...”, Percival chuckled nervously as he reeled the boy back a few feet by pulling the back of his vest; as his bangs were every close to singeing. - And he did not want to know what Goldstien would do if he let _that_ happen. -

The reply soon came fluttering out of the fireplace. It read that the two were very welcomed later that day if it suited them.

“What do you say about that, Credence? Mind going out for a bit? We could have lunch out.”

The boy hadn’t objected. Graves sent a reply that they gladly accepted the offer.

They arrived to the tailor almost an hour later.

* * *

 

Who would have thought anyone would be reluctant when you told them to walk into a fire!

Graves had thought his demonstration with the paper was plenty enough to show that it was perfectly safe for humans to travel via the floo network.

It had taken a great deal of coaxing to convince Credence. He had protested. He had even held onto the couch! The wizard had insisted and Credence had frowned and for a while Graves had been worried he'd end up making the boy cry.

But, eventually, Credence let himself be picked up and carried into the green flames.

Graves took the safety measure to cover Credence in a heat repelling charm, just in case he’d start panicking inside the chimney. He didn't want to imagine what an upset obscurial would be like while travelling.

When he stepped out on the cobblestones of the shopping street the boy had his arms wrapped around his neck so tightly that he almost had trouble breathing. Still, it went excellent for a first time trip.

“Look Credence”, the wizard had said. A pair of brown eyes had delicately looked up from hiding in the fabric of his scarf.

” _We survived._ ”

Credence turned his head and gasped gently.

Not from the fact that they survived but at the sight of  the few shops across from the floo station.

He probably hadn't seen anything like it in his entire life.

Blending antique wizarding architecture and modern New York boutiques the line of shops were something on their own right. Some sported large windows showing up the goods for the Holidays shoppers while others were just as dark and gloomy as they had been two hundred years ago. All with varying degrees of Christmas spirit.

The domestic craft store’s window was lined with spruce adorned with colorful christmas balls and tiny bells. The display shelf was filled with gift boxes with embroidered pillows, home knitted socks, mittens and scarfs, potted plants and small toys, all covered in small bows and decorative snow. Everything in a colorscheme of red, white, green and brown with little snowmen and reindeer running around the patterns and prints.

The apothecary on the other hand only sported a lone, dried up mistletoe in the window. Which was impressive compared to their usual decoration standards.

Credence took all of this in with a look of perplexity. Then he sneezed.

“Bless you”, Graves said as he moved away from the floo station. Then, after making sure they were out of the way of the arrivals, he set the boy down and made him blow his nose from any lingering soot or ash.

Then he took the boy by the hand and headed towards the Nimble Thimble.

The underground passage was moderately crowded with wizards and witches doing their holiday shopping. They carried boxes and shopping bags, some being daring enough to have them levitating behind them (as much as a hazard that could prove to be). Some had even brought their house-elves along to carry everything for them, judging by the towers of boxes trailing behind certain witches.

This didn’t bring down their pace too much though, and Credence had plenty of time to see more of the stores they passed by.

Eventually they did reach the steps outside the Nimble Thimble and Graves pushed open the door to enter the warm and comfortable studio (because even though it was underground and constantly smelled of cinder from the floo station the temperature still managed to be a bit chilly (just like how there were snow piling up against the house walls even though it didn’t make sense for snow to fall there)).

It didn’t take long before a: “Graves!”, was called from within the shop. Soon an older wizard came out from the atelier Graves knew to lie within.

The wizard was thin and with long limbs (which is just a nicer way of saying he was _lanky_ ), and Graves had always thought him as agile for his age. Today he wore a dark green shirt underneath a maroon vest. On his elbow sat a strap-on pin cushion that he had either forgotten to remove or proved that he had been busy working just now. His white hair was, as every time Graves had seen him, kept back in a low ponytail.   
He was also one of the few wizards of his generation Graves knew to keep his beard trimmed short. He had been told that it was because long beards was such a hassle to keep out of the needle work.

On his nose rested a pair of gold rimmed glasses. They had monocle like watchglasses on either side of the frames he used for tiny details when he worked.

“Needle.” Graves moved Credence over to his left hand so that he could give the tailor a proper handshake.

“We didn’t expect you here again so soon, Graves”, the tailor said.

“You make it sound like you don’t want me here”, Graves chuckled.

“As if you’re _not_ going to give me a large order to get ready before the holidays”, Needle tutted in fake annoyance.

“Because you _have_ brought a new customer for us, yes?”, Needle inquired and curiously followed the length of Graves’ coat, where Credence was quietly regarding both adults.

“Yes, Credence here is in need of some clothes”, Graves said.  
“Aren’t you, Credence?”

To his surprise the boy didn’t answer. Instead he retreated behind Graves’ leg where his long coat hid him from view.

“Shy is he?”, Needle asked, though not unkindly.

“Yes...”, Graves replied, though slightly unsure. Having known the boy for such a short amount of time he couldn’t tell if the boy was merely shy or bothered in another way.

He rubbed a circle with his thumb atop Credence’ hand.

Needle must have heard the uncertainty in his client’s voice because he quickly assured:  
“I doubt it'll be a problem. Mauve’s the one who’ll pin him, _she’s great with kids_.”

Graves knew Mauve. She was the co-owner of the studio. However, he had never had any direct involvement with her other than being asked on the opinion of the embroidery design of his family crest.

She worked more with details and usually sat in the back with some kind of handwork in her lap; it being anything from embroidery, to lacework or an arrangement of decorative crystals. He was pretty sure she was the one behind most of the designs shown in the formal robes collection.

He supposed children’s clothing also required that sort of attention to fine detail.

“Let’s get to it shall we?”, the tailor suggested.

The two were ushered to a pair of sofas around a coffee table further into the studio. Mauve soon joined them, bringing with her some patterns and design mags to look at.

She was a short witch with long dark grey hair and big lively eyes. She wore a traditional long sleeved witch robe, and looking closely Graves noticed that the hems of her wide sleeves were lined with an assortment of pins. How she managed to move around without piercing herself was beyond him.

Perhaps some kind of anti-pricking spell.

Credence must have noticed this too because he cautiously leaned away from the witch when she sat down next to them. Still, she seemed to make him more curious than scared; which was always a good thing.

This was always the Director’s favorite part; next to actually wearing the finished clothes. With Needle one could tweak and combine any number of designs to your will. The shape of a collar, a specific detail on the hemline, the arrangement of the buttons. It was pick and choose. The only limit being what Needle still deemed to be fashionable.

Mauve wasn't very different. She was just more pushy when it came to what materials they should use.

Doing the same for Credence opened a whole new world of fashion.

For example, he didn’t know how irresistible tiny sailor uniforms were before he saw a whole page filled with them.

Credence of course was allowed an opinion in all of it; but he seemed more interested in the fact that the designs were moving - with miniature boys and girls running and dancing around across the page - than in the actual designs and sat quietly in the Director’s lap.

Eventually they decided on a few outfits and color combinations that would match Graves’ own wardrobe so that people understood they were a pair, but not straightly ripped of the adult’s clothes that Credence merely looked like a mini Director.

Most of it was everyday clothes, but they included some outerwear and _playclothes_ , as Mauve described them. That it was ‘ _important for growing children to be able to run around without worrying about ruining their clothes’_. Or, being scolded for it at least.

Then it was time for the actual measuring.

Credence was made to stand on top of a tall, cushioned footstool in the middle of the fitting area while Mauve took his measurements with a few animated measuring tapes. Graves remained within eyeshot by the sofas while Needle tried talking him into doing ‘ _a quick_ _fitting’_ for a new formal robe that would be _perfect_ for MACUSA’s New Year’s Eve party.

He admitted he was tempted but he politely declined. This was Credence’s fitting. And Needle had been right, Mauve was great with kids. The boy stood completely still, although relaxed, while letting the witch pin different pieces of fabric together on his arms and waist with flying pins and measuring tapes directed by her wand. She talked to him about what and how she was going to make his clothes, and praised him for his patience (making him stand a little straighter every time), and how he was going to be the most well dressed boy in all of New York City.

“I think you should go buy this darling some bonbons for being such a good boy”, Mauve said as the two put on their coats. Credence immediately leaned back into the protection of Graves’ long coat; his blushing face showing between the drapes of black fabric. Though there was no mistake about the small smile on his face.

Obviously in a much better mood than when they arrived.

“That does sound like a good idea”, the wizard mused.

With a flick of his hand, as if yanking a string, his checkbook came out of his inner pocket.

“Now, let’s put a number on this so we can go have some lunch.”

“Certainly, sir.”

She got out a notebook she and Needle had made notes in earlier.

“Is everything in order?”

The Director quickly checked off the items. It was a long list concerning dress shirts, vests, shorts, slacks, cotton pyjamas, rompers among many other things. He had also made sure to add a few more handkerchiefs since they seemed to be working through clean ones at a much brisker pace than before.

He nodded and returned the book.

The witch’ quill wrote down a few numbers, then summed them up at the bottom of the page.

“And it runs up to _six hundred_ and _forty seven_ Dragots and _thirty two_ Sprinks. And should be ready for delivery on Wednesday after Christmas...”, she read out loud.

“But I’m sure I can get at least two outfits ready before Christmas so he has something nice to wear for the holiday”, she said and winked at the two of them.

“That would be greatly appreciated, ma’am”, the Director said.

He wrote down the necessary numbers and signatures on the check. He then tore it out, handed it to the witch, exchanged some pleasantries about the upcoming holiday; then took Credence by the hand and walked out onto the busy underground shopping street.

He hadn’t walked far before Credence tugged gently at his hand.

“Mr Percival?”

“Yes, my boy?”

“How much is a dragon?”

“You mean _a dragot_?”

The boy nodded.

He had to think for a moment. The no-maj currency was a funny thing. They were constantly investing, their stock market constantly on the rise. The dollar changed from one thing in the morning and to another in the evening most days.

And the no-majs celebrated it for some reason.

He clicked his tongue.

“Well, it’s about... _four_ dollars I think…”

And then he couldn't walk any further. Because Credence had dug his heels into the cobblestones and was holding the wizard’s arm back.

Graves looked back in confusion.

Credence little mouth was hanging open.

“ _F-four dollars_?!”

Passerby witches and wizards glanced their way at the loud shriek of the no-maj currency. The Director sent an apologetic smile in their general direction, then turned back to the boy.

“T-that means… you spent almost _th-three thousand_ dollars!”

The Director must say, how Credence managed to calculate that in such a short notice was remarkable. Though he didn’t actually say that.

“Yeah, that sounds about right”, the wizard nodded again.

Credence’ cheek suddenly turned pink. He looked back and forth between the man and the ground.

“Mr Percival… I-I don’t want you to spent that much money on me…”

The Director wasn’t stupid. He was fully aware that he had just spent _a lot_ of money. Money someone with Credence’ class background might not deem to be suited for _clothes shopping_.

Still, he wasn’t going to let Credence refuse a proper wardrobe.

“Think of it like this...”, the wizard said, trying to be reasonable,”It’s _expensive_ because it’s good quality”, he told him.

“We’ve bought enough to last you ‘til summer, and then you’ll probably just need a couple of polos and shorts.”

“And besides Tina would put me on the stake if I got you anything but the best.”

The corners of Credence’ lips tugged momentarily in the shape of a smile at the exaggeration (and Graves sent the witch a fond thought). But it was only for a moment, because then he frowned.

“But I probably won’t be able to pay you back...”, he said meekly.

“And I’m not asking you to”, the Director said and stroked Credence’s little hand with his thumb.

Credence looked back in the direction of The Nimble Thimble, as if trying to come up with another argument to go cancel at least parts of the order. Though he must have come up empty handed because he didn’t resist when the Director resumed towing him down the street.

“And just so you know, Credence”, he added as a side note.   
“If I report the cost to MACUSA they’ll cover the expenses anyway. So it’s not even my money.” Then he winked at the boy.

They walked to a nice restaurant and got a table for two. Graves ordered the chicken dish from the lunch menu for both of them. Credence, being the orderly boy he was, put his napkin in his lap and watched how the silverware and food was brought in. When they had eaten Graves ordered a cup of coffee and the waiter even gave Credence a biscuit.

The Director paid the bill then the two left again and headed south.

* * *

 

“Where are we going now?”, Credence wondered.

“Are you getting tired?”  
Graves wasn’t sure how much children were allowed to walk before you were considered a bad caregiver.

The boy shook his head.

“No, I was just wondering...”

“Is there anything you’d like before we leave?”, the wizard asked.

The boy shook his head in an urgent no.

“Then we only have one last stop at the confection store, then I was thinking we’d go home.”

It took a moment for Credence to catch the meaning of that.

“But Mr Percival, I don’t need any candy...”, Credence said.

“Credence”, Graves said, actually starting to get slightly tired of his protests. “You needed clothes, now _I_ think you need a treat.”

Credence didn’t protest further, but his steps did become more trudgey.

It was easy to spot the confection boutique, _The caramel crystal_. He could smell it before he saw it. Crystallized sugars and chocolate. It would make his mouth water if he hadn’t eaten just now.

The shop window was equally as promising. Though it was a little hard to tell with all the children and couples flocking in front of it.

“ _Mommy, mommy please_ …!”

“ _Not today dear_.”

“ _Should we take a look?”_

_“Look at that one! How do you think they made it?”_

_“Oh, I wish I could taste it...”_

Credence, counter his previous reluctance, started craning his neck to see; though he was far too short to actually distinguish anything apart from colors shining through the gaps between the wizards and witches.

Graves didn't linger by the window though. After all, they weren't there to window-shop.

A bell pinged as he pushed open the door and he was immediately hit by an even stronger - but luckily not overwhelming - smell of sweets. Being less than a week before Christmas on a weekend the store was quite filled with wizards and witches strolling between the shelves.

Quite a few standing in line for the self-assemble pralin-box station.

A great number of wizarding children surrounded a stand showcasing something called _Chocolate Frog Cards_.

The Director had never seen them before in his life, though he wasn’t surprised, considering there was a small, but glowing, arrow on top of it saying:” _Brand new!_ ” that changed to “ _Start your collection today!_ ”

What you were supposed to collect was a bit unclear.

Next to his leg Credence stood with his mouth hanging open.

“Welcome sir”, the witch behind the cashier beamed as the two of them came inside and stomped off some snow on the rug in front of the door.

“Thank you, ma’am”, the Director greeted back as he moved away from the door to let a wizard carrying a pile of wrapped boxes exit.

“And hello darling”, she added when Credence continued to stare, wide eyed at the shelves upon shelves of homemade candies and confections. Though he quickly snapped out of his daze and shut his mouth at her words and tentatively clung closer to Graves’ long coat.

The witch chuckled warmly.

“First time here?”, she asked the wizard, giving the child a nod.

He confirmed this with a nod.

“Are you here to stock up for the Holidays, or perhaps to get a gift?”, she wondered.

He shook his head.

“No. Just a little reward for this one”, he replied and let his hand pat Credence’s bowl cut.

The witch smiled. Then, giving Credence a bewildered look, said:  
“Well, what are you waiting for, love? Go have a look.” As she flicked her head inwards the shop with a smirk on her lips.

The boy looked up at Graves, obviously asking for permission. His big brown eyes so large and unknowingly pleading.

“Go on, my boy”, Graves said and sent him off with a gentle push.

Credence didn’t need anymore encouragement. He went straight to the nearest shelf, stood on his tippy toes and started reading the different labels.

It took awhile for Credence to go through the whole boutique - and for Graves to explain that the _Sugared Butterfly Wings_ were, in fact, made out of _actual_ butterflies while the chocolate frogs (supposedly) weren’t made of actual frogs - but eventually he settled on a box of marzipans shaped in various winter motives. The wizard added a package of pumpkin pastries to have something to eat at home before dinner.

When Percival went to pay the witch behind the cashier waved her wand and a little paper bag tied with a bow from the shelf behind her floated down to stand on the counter. It said _Chocolate covered nuts_.

Having a weakness for everything containing peanuts he picked up the neat little bag to read the table of contents. And he was pleased.

“How much will it be?”, he asked returning it to the counter while he reached for his wallet.

“Thirty sprinks, sir”, she replied.

His brow furrowed slightly.

“But that can't be right…”, he said as he ran through the numbers in his head. It was the exact same as before he had joined to line to pay.

“Oh, _this one_ is on the boutique, sir”, she said and patted the package of nuts.

“As a first-time customer”, she explained.

“It isn’t my first time though, ma’am”, he told her having bought a gift for his sister there the year before.

“But it is _his_.” She nodded at Credence who was eyeing this new bag of treats.

“I can still pay for it, ma’am”, he tried one last time.

“See it as a gesture in the spirit of Christmas”, she had said firmly.

* * *

 

And so the Director of Magical Security left _The Caramell Crystal_ ; one hand holding a shopping bag while the other was busy steering Credence towards the floo station. Which was of utmost importance since the boy was paying more attention to the shops than where he was going, his box of marzipans clutched securely to his chest.

They only had to stand in line for a few minutes. Credence actually seemed to relax as he got to see various witches and wizards casually use the fireplaces to return home from their shopping; and he was nowhere as uneasy this time around. Graves added the necessary sprinks to a coin slot in the mantel (which was necessary to apply to floo powder), picked up the boy and stepped into the fireplace saying:  
“Graves apartment, New York City!”

And after just a few spinning moments he stepped out onto the rug in front of the fireplace at home.

As he did Credence gasped by his shoulder.

He looked at him, slightly bewildered. This was the boy’s second time of travel, right? So why did he look so shocked?

He didn’t have to wait long for an elaboration, however.

“That fire was much warmer than yours, Mr Percival!”, Credence said.

The wizard suddenly had to clear his throat.

“ _Really_?”, the wizard remarked.

It wasn’t like he had forgotten to put the heat repelling charm on the boy on the way back.

_Don’t be silly._

“You sure it wasn't just because you were out in the cold before we stepped in this time?”, he wondered innocently as he carried the boy to the tambour where they could take of their outdoor coats.

“It could be...”, the boy pondered.

He didn't dwell on it long though and seemed to have forgotten all about it by the time Graves had brought out the pumpkin pastries in the sitting room, along with a cup of coffee for himself and a glass of milk for the boy.

“Come Credence ”, Graves said and patted the sofa.

“I’ve got something to show you.”

He had waved over a book from the living room bookcase. It was gift he, amongst most attendants, had received on the ten year anniversary of the Woolworth building. It was merely a photo collection of aerial shots of New York City following the years throughout the construction and use of the building; but Graves figured it would be perfect for some light education.

He scooped up Credence to sit in his lap and opened the book.

“Do you know where we are now?”, he asked after letting Credence gawk at the moving traffic and pedestrians.

The boy thought for a while, probably trying to remember the route they took yesterday. Graves let him flip the pages back and forth to look at the pictures of Lower Manhattan and Central park.

“Here?” He pointed at the neighboring street and looked up at Graves with his big brown eyes.

“Almost”, the wizard says.

When Credence looked back to the page a golden circle had appeared on the black and white picture, circling the roof of the apartment.

“We went from here”, Graves said,”To _here_ with Floo powder.”

As he spoke the golden marking made an arrow stretching across the buildings and Central park to Harlem; where it gathered in a line resembling _Cinder street_.

“ _Wow_ ”, the boy breathed.

The page turned by itself to a few shots of the shopping street (showing what it looked like back in 1913). The Nimble Thimble was there, as well as the Caramel crystal. The potion ingredient shop looked the same as ever.

_Opened 1562_ , the gold spelled out.

_Then: Renamed in 1733_

_And again in 1857 with the changed ownership._

They continued like this, Graves pointing out different locations of interest, the golden lines spelling out small notes while Credence listened. He kept the questions at a minimal but it was clear he found it interesting; while eating his pumpkin pastry.

Which was probably why Graves didn't notice that the boy dozed off until he was leaning completely against him.

He had obviously been more tired than he had let on.

Graves continued reading on his own in quiet while waiting for the boy to be enough asleep so that he wouldn't rouse when he moved him. Because as cozy as it was he had other things to do.

As he sat there he noticed Credence had orange crumbles on his cheek.

He brushed them off.

He also realized that Credence would need another bath tonight because he smelled of ashes.

He wondered how often children were supposed to bathe.

He wondered what would happen if they bathed too often…

The fact that he didn’t know the answers concerned him.

When Credence's breaths were deep enough he carried him into the boy’s own room and tucked him in with a blanket on top of the covers.

Then he left the child to nap and brought some work out into the living room from the office.

Just as he picked up the first report he let himself glance at the ajar bedroom door.

He wondered how long children were supposed to nap...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You bet your cute bubble butt that Credence is going to collect Chocolate Frog Cards X)
> 
> Reviews are highly appreciated!  
> Thanks for reading <3


	5. Monday - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The week-end is over and it's time for Graves to go to work. He's not very used to bringing a child with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks, I've seen Crimes of Grindelwald, and it *has* given me a bunch of new ideas for this story. And BTW I wrote this chapter (and planned out the upcoming chapters) before watching it, so there won't be any spoilers (In this chapter :P)! And I, and probably most people who haven't watched it, hope everyone refrains from talking spoilers in the comments! Thank you <3
> 
> Okay, so chapter: Someone said I was getting a little descriptive in the last chapter, so I just went wild with *show* rather than tell. Tell me if it works. Is it better? Is it worse? 
> 
> BTW, A03 keeps adding spaces between words and periods when I convert from HTML, anyone knows what's up with that? O_O
> 
> Either way, enjoy~

Preparing to go to work in the morning with a child is a little different from doing it by yourself. Graves realized that rather  quickly  when Monday morning arrived.

 

Credence  was woken  up and dressed, as previous mornings, not too much of a difference there. What was completely new was that he followed the wizard into the bathroom.

 

At first he had stayed by the door frame and looked on as Graves shaved.

 

At first Graves had dismissed it as the boy having nothing better to do, and he had let him stand audience for him. As boring as it  undoubtedly  was.

 

However, there was something in the way he leaned in to see better, that subtle notion of curiosity that made Graves realize: Credence had  probably  never seen a man like this .

 

What he could gather from reports there had never been a Mister Barebone. Not as much as an uncle.  Credence had grown up with only sisters and he  severely  doubted the Barebone woman had had any other kind of male resident in the chapel.

 

It was no wonder Credence was curious: Of the brushes whisking up cream, of the pad of leather hanging on a knob next to the sink, of the bottles with their clear content . It must have been as foreign as an alchemy set.

 

He had gotten an idea from this.

 

“Credence”, he said and dried his hands on a towel before beckoning the boy forward.

 

“You’ll see better from here”, he invited.

 

Credence blushed  gently  , embarrassed that his interest had shown, but  obediently  walked up and let the wizard lift him to sit on top the empty vanity top .

 

“Did you shave, Credence?”, Graves asked.

 

The boys shrugged.

 

“When I had to...”

 

The man hummed.

 

“And what did you use?  Just  the knife?”

 

He nodded.

 

“And warm water. Ma didn’t think I needed cream when I didn’t need to shave that often.”

 

Followed by:  
“ _And it was expensive...”_

 

“Well, there's nothing wrong with warm water, for a beginner”, the wizard assured.

 

“However , when it becomes more of habit it’s far more merciful on the skin to use something softening as well. But what’s most important is the blade”, he said and gestured to the tool in his hand. Then he resumed shaving through the stubble he had accumulated over the weekend. For as enjoyable it was to explain shaving to someone he had a time to keep.

 

It had taken some time to get back into the habit of shaving. Before he had done it almost every day. But that was before. In the beginning of his captivity he had yearned for nothing more than to shave.  To rid of the annoying stubble that grew into an even more annoying beard over the days, weeks, months , spent within those four walls .

 

Grindelwald hadn’t been so stupid  as to  give him as much as a razor.

 

The things he would have been able to do with a simple sheet of metal, even without a wand. - He had always been fond of ritual magic. - At least the Dark wizard hadn’t underestimated him; he could give him that much.

 

The lack of control over this (among other things of course, but this especially) had driven him up the walls. He had dreamed of it sometimes. The smell of after shave so convincing it stung his nose and he woke up with tears in his eyes. But not five minutes after his first shave in two months he had been anxious. He hadn't realized how much he'd miss something to tug at. His hand would still  fly  up to his jaw to grasp at nothing but sharp stubble.

 

The fact that he cared about this almost made him more depressed.

 

Almost.

 

He was getting better though. Or that's what he liked to think.

 

But back to tips on shaving.

 

“If it’s dull you’re actually more likely to cut yourself, and if it’s rusty...”

 

He  visibly  shuddered.

 

“Let’s not get into that.”

 

He saw in the corner of his eye how Credence nodded, like an enthusiastic student.

 

Now, Graves’ own father hadn’t done this sort of lesson until Percival and his brother were both well over fourteen  .  But Credence had been almost eighteen before… all this , so it wouldn’t hurt to have him well prepared if they managed to turn him back .

 

He finished up shaving.  Meanwhile talking on about how to guide the knife depending on which way the hairs grew to achieve the best results, and washed off with cold water .

 

Then it was time for products.

 

This was the part that was completely new to the boy, who had only gotten to use talc to cover up nicks.

 

Graves let him smell the different bottles he used and explained what they were for, from after shave to the cologne he liked to use .

 

Credence wrinkled his nose at the latter.

 

“The trick is to not use too much of this stuff”, the wizard chuckled at the face the boy made.  As he did he waved for the bottle to animate itself to give his wrists a puff each, which he then brought up to transfer some fragments onto his neck .

 

“There”, he concluded and the bottle set itself back on the shelf.

 

He waved his hand and summoned the slim black comb he liked to use. He  swiftly  combed through his hair before adding a click of gel which he spread out with practiced hands.

 

He could see the perplexed look in the boy's eyes in the mirror as his  relatively  fluffy hair  was pulled  back to its’ usual pristine and crisp look  .  Then, so Credence wouldn't  just  have to sit there and watch he summoned the clean brush from the other bathroom and brushed the boy's hair until it laid  neatly  over his scalp.

 

Seeing all that done he pointed his wand at the sink to make it tidy itself up, then picked up the boy to go have breakfast.

 

“Mr Percival”, Credence said as he was being carried into the kitchen.

 

“Yes, my boy?”

 

The boy was quiet for a moment.

 

“He didn’t smell the same as you.  Just  so you know.”

 

_He_

 

The wizard felt a chill run up his spine at the reminder of the closeness _he_ had had to the boy. For Credence to know _his_ smell…

 

Still, it was a relief. Proof that no transfiguration was perfect. Even when performed by a power crazy dark wizard.

 

“That’s good to hear”, he had said.

 

“And  I think  your cologne smells much better, Mr Percival”, the boy added.

 

He had to chuckle.

 

“Thank you”, he said.

 

“Now, how much toast do you want?”

 

“Two, please.”

* * *

They had breakfast and Graves made sure Credence had two glasses of pumpkin juice along with his toast . Then they only had time to brush their teeth before they had to leave.

 

Graves made sure to pack with some books in his briefcase - because what else was the boy supposed to do all day? - and an extra handkerchief.

 

Credence held the Director's hand the whole walk from the apartment to lower Manhattan , and they reached the Woolworth building  just  before nine .

 

He couldn't be sure if he was imagining it or not, but people seemed to move out of the way more when they noticed the child walking next to him.

 

Something he became sure of though when he reached MACUSA was that people were looking at him  differently . And when they were halfway to the elevator it had turned into out right _staring._

 

Maybe  not as much as the first morning he came back from the hospital - that day had been a spectacle by itself - but their unsubtle double-take glances were undeniable.

 

Or, they weren’t staring at him, but at the hand he held in his. At the boy trying to keep up with his steps.

 

Some looked surprised. Others curious.

 

He wasn’t surprised of their reactions. Not everyone had gotten the memo from the vote. This was the first time he had ever arrived in the company of a child. No one, not even himself, had seen him in such a fashion before this Friday.

 

What did concern him were the few ones who had worry shining in their eyes. The few aurors who had been at the scene that night less than a month ago. Others who had only heard rumors.  Just  like Patricia at the Underage Magic Use Office.

 

One part of him wanted to yell at them to mind their own business. The second, the one that won in the end,  just  hoped the boy didn’t notice.

 

Still he made his way to the elevator, being extra careful to make sure Credence didn't get squashed between MACUSA workers; because out of everyone that could stare they  just  couldn't look up from their documents.

 

“Good morning, Director”, he  was greeted  as he stepped inside the elevator.

 

“Good morning, Red”, he replied.

 

“You havin’ a tail today?”, the goblin asked referring to Credence, who was standing on the opposite side of the wizard;  shyly  peering out to look at the bellboy.

 

“Something like that”, Graves agreed.

 

Credence was quiet the whole way up until they stepped out the elevator. As it rattled away behind them Credence tugged at his hand.

 

“Mr Percival?”, he whispered.

 

“Yes?”, the director said in a hushed voice, unsure of what they were whispering for.

 

“ _Was that a house-elf?_ ”

 

It took him a moment to realize the boy was asking about Red.

 

“Aa… Um, no, he’s actually a goblin”, he said.

 

“House-elves are smaller. They're  barely  taller than you”, he said and smirked at the child.

 

It took a moment for Credence to realize he was being teased, and he gasped  gently. But Percival could tell the boy wasn't offended.

* * *

 

The first thing Graves did when they arrived to his office was to aim his wand at the pair of chairs in front of his desk turning them into one small, but plush and comfortable, sofa. He then moved it to the corner of the office and summoned a coffee table, making a little lounge area for the boy.

 

“As you understand I need to work...”, he said and sent his briefcase to start unloading its’ content on the desk, as per usual. The books they had brought floated over to the coffee table.

 

“If you get bored, tell me and we'll come up with something.  Just  don't touch anything in the cabinets”, he gestured for the walls that  were covered  in glass cabinets . All filled with different instruments and modules. Some less child friendly than others. Actually most of them were.

 

“They are off-limits. Understood?”, he asked, but not  unkindly.

 

Credence nodded  obediently  from on top of the sofa.

 

“Good”, the wizard nodded.

 

Just  then Miss Tocker knocked on the door frame.

 

“Good morning, sir”, she greeted.

 

“Good morning, Miss Tocker. Did you have a good weekend?”, he asked her.

 

“Yes very, thank you, sir”, she said and looked into the office, seeing that the chairs were gone.

 

Her eyes found Credence.

 

“Hello”, she told Credence, a little surprised.

 

“Good morning ma’am”, Credence replied.

 

Graves could tell his secretary  was surprised, but  equally  as flattered at the title.

 

She tapped her wand against her notepad, making the papers she brought  fly  to their piles on the desk.

 

She read up a few people that wanted to talk to him.

 

“And the President memoed saying your lunch meeting will  be rescheduled  to Wednesday.”

 

And here he was hoping they'd cancel  all of  that week's lunch meetings. Not that he anything against talking work with the President over a nice lunch. It was  just  that he still didn't have a plan for what Credence  was supposed  to do meanwhile.

 

“Anything else?”, he wondered.

 

“The elf-application, sir? Would you like me to send it in? If you've filled it in of course.”

 

“Yes, thank you, miss Tocker”, he replied. And with a wave of his hand the filled in form flew from the desk to the clipboard.

 

Right as she was walking out the door he called her back.

 

“One more thing, Miss Tocker.”

 

She turned.

 

“Could you bring in one of the fruit baskets? Because I assume there's a new one…”

 

She made a funny expression with her eyebrows.

 

“Certainly  , sir…”, she nodded, a hint of confusion in her tone.  Generally he left them at her desk for visitors (and herself) or sent them to the auror coffee rooms to  be distributed  among his subordinates, seeing he couldn't  possibly  eat that much fruit and biscuits and muffins on his own.

 

But today he figured it would be an excellent snack bar for his little guest.

 

“Mr Percival”, Credence said as the witch walked out.

 

“Yes?”

 

“What is it that you work with?”

 

He looked at the boy who was sitting on the sofa, his head tilted sideways a few degrees.

 

“Are you saying you don’t know?”

 

Credence shook his head.

 

“I know you’re Tina’s boss...”, he said.

 

“But Miss mentioned the President…”

 

Oh, he thought.

 

The boy  really  didn't know.

 

“Well, you are right. Tina is my subordinate. I am in charge of overseeing all aurors under MACUSA and their work. That makes me the Director of Magical Security. And I am also the Head of Magical Law Enforcement.”

 

“And I do work with the President on a regular basis.”

 

Credence eyes went  comically  wide.  Even if he didn't know what the titles  specifically  meant the fact that he worked with the President was big enough on their own.

 

Graves couldn’t help but ask: “Grindelwald never mentioned any of this, did he?”

 

Credence thought for a moment, then shook his head.

 

“He almost never talked about himself...”

 

“Might have been for the best...”, the Director pondered.  Just  then his secretary returned to the office.  She directed a straw basket filled with spiced orange pomander, pumpkin pastries and some kind of brown muffins with her wand.

 

“Here it is, sir”, she said.

 

“I think  there’s a card for you as well”, she added peeking inside it before letting him take control over the levitation spell; bringing it to sit on the coffee table . Said card fluttered out and went into his hand.

 

It was a very generic Holiday card, a picture of a snowman  being assembled, picked apart and reassembled again by magic. Above it glittering gold letters spelled out: Happy Holidays.

 

He was rather pleased to see that it didn't contain any wishes of condolences to him.

 

They were getting better.

 

“Thank you, miss Tocker”, he said and dismissed her with a nod.

 

Meanwhile Credence was inspecting the basket.  Probably  to see what it was that smelled so spicy.

 

“That’s for you”, Graves told him. The boy looked up, shocked.

 

“For me?”, he wondered.

 

“Yes. Help yourself.  Just  don’t eat so much you spoil lunch”, he told him as he started sorting out some reports he was going to read through.

 

“But...”, the boy started protesting.

 

“It’s  just  something to snack on, Credence”, the Director said to dismiss any attempts at protesting.

 

“And besides, oranges are good for you.”

* * *

 

Then he started working. He read reports, wrote memos and letters. Any arrangements of upcoming meetings were left up to Tocker, as per usual.

 

What was different today was that he could glance over to see what the boy was up to every once in a while.

 

Mostly  Credence read in the books. And  eventually  he even dared taking a muffin from the basket.  He stayed quiet, the only noise in the office coming from the typewriter and the light hum from the trinkets in the cupboards.

 

Around ten o’clock Credence's little voice drifted across the room.

 

“Mr Percival?”

 

The wizard immediately looked up from the documents in front of him.

 

“Yes, my boy?”

 

Credence was holding onto an orange.

 

“I…”, he started.

 

“Need some help?”, the wizard wondered.

 

Credence nodded.

 

“Hold it out, please”, Graves said.

 

Credence did, the orange looking very large in his small hands, and Percival branded his wand. Immediately Credence gained that look of interest he got every time the wizard took out his wand.

 

With a well practiced Wingardium leviosa spell he raised it into the air, out of reach of the child.  Because even if he was a  highly  trained wizard with a rather precise aim (if he  was allowed  to say so himself) he wasn’t so stupid he’d target an object sitting in the hands of a child.  
Then with a sharper flick of his wrist, and an uttered:” Diffindo !”, the peel  was sliced  away, removing itself in a spiral, which dropped down to sit on the table.

 

Credence looked at it in awe.

 

“Do you want them in smaller bites?”, Graves asked him.

 

Credence took a pause to think, then nodded.

 

“Yes, please.”

 

“Diffindo”, Graves said again, and flicked in the other direction. Without so much as a drop of juice spilled the oranges  were cleaved  into halves.

 

He let them drift down into Credence’s awaiting hands.

 

“Mind if I take one?”, the Director wondered.

 

The boy shook his head and  eagerly  held his hand out, and Graves summoned two pieces with a silent Accio spell; eating it as he continued working.

* * *

 

When Graves looked over the next time he saw that Credence was hanging out over the arm of the sofa, the orange peel in his hand  . At first it confused him.  But looking closer he saw that the boy had one hand  firmly  planted on the stuffed arm, making sure he kept his balance, while the other one was waving up and down making the orange peel coil and uncoil like a spring.

 

It was  fairly  obvious what he was doing.

 

He was playing with it.

 

It looked very sweet actually.

 

However, right as he was about to ponder about whether Credence might want actual toys or not there was a knock on his door.

 

Sadly  Credence stopped his playing to look towards the door. The Director had to do the same.

 

“Come in”, he called.

 

The door opened and the face of Abernathy looked in from behind the door.

 

“Excuse me, Mr Graves, sir. Your secretary said you were working from the office today.  I was wondering  if you have a moment.”

 

“Yes, come in Abernathy.”

 

The wizard took a step inside, but he stopped halfway in, looking around.

 

Just  then Graves realized he didn't have any chairs anymore, for they have  been turned  into the sofa Credence was sitting on.

 

“Oh, right…”

 

He was right about to turn and ask the boy if he could stand up for  just  a second, but a tap on his leg interrupted him.

 

Looking down he saw that Credence had walked up to him.

 

“Mr Percival”, he said in a hushed voice.

 

“Yes?”

 

“If you want to talk on your own I can go outside.”

 

The director thought over the offer for a moment. It felt rude to kick the boy out, and at the same time: If Credence wanted to leave the room he should  be allowed  to.

 

“Do you want to?”, he wondered.

 

The boy shrugged.

 

“I have to go to the bathroom anyway...”

 

“Well, in that case. It's  just  down the hall. Ask Miss Tocker to point you in the right direction”, he instructed.  Considering Credence wasn't an ordinary six year old the director trusted him of finding the way back and forth on his own.

 

Credence nodded, then went to slip out the door. Abernathy following him with a curious look. Graves felt the boy's presence pass through the doorway as he went.

 

“Now, Abernathy, please have a seat”, Graves said, turning the sofa back into two chairs and presenting one of them for the auror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the chapter ends kind of awkwardly but it would have reached over 5k words at that point if I continued and it lets me start off on a semi-dramatic note so whatever :3  
> Look forward to some Goldsteins in the next chapter though!


	6. Monday - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival has a small panic attack. Luckily Queenie is there to fix all his problems. Or, almost all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I want the Christmas chapter out before actual Christmas." Ha! :'D  
> But part two is here! Queenie was fun to write :)  
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos guys, it makes this all worth it!  
> Happy 2019~!

The discussion with Abernathy went on for longer than Graves had estimated, but eventually the auror was sent on his way with some notes and a reference to a few relevant cases. He had had questions on how to track down a suspected animagus in the New York area.

Returning his attention to his typewriter Graves worked for a good solid hour before he heard a gentle knock on the door.

"Come in", he called.

It was Miss Tocker.

"Yes?", he said.

"Excuse me, sir", she said.  
"I think this is intended for you", she said and held out her hand to display a Rat memo. It was sniffing her fingertips.

He raised an eyebrow. It wasn't often he was sent rat memos; when people wanted to tell him something they could do that during a meeting. And when he did miss Tocker usually collected them until lunch. Unless they were stamped with  _Urgent_  or were from the President.

Which was practically the same thing.

But considering he was working from the office today it was understandable that people would send him a note instead.

"Who is it from?", he wondered.

"The Wand Permit Office", she replied.

This only managed to confuse him further.

Still, he wasn't going to refuse it.

"Thank you, miss Tocker", he said, and saw how the memo scurried down her side to run towards his desk at his words. By the time it had climbed onto his desk his secretary had left the room.

Seeing it up close he saw that there was something off about it. It was very  _white_. As if it was made out of regular writing paper instead of the usual forms and reports.

Now curious he wasted no time in unfolding it with a wave of his wand .

The content surprised him.

It was a drawing.

A child's by the looks of it.

That's when he remembered Credence.

He quickly looked around the room from his desk. Then he checked underneath it just to be sure.

The boy wasn't there.

And Graves realized that he had never felt Credence return.

"Merlin's beard!"

He wasn't doing a very good job at this guardian thing, was he?

The Director of Magical Security was just about the leap up from his chair when he realized he probably had the answer right in front of him.

He looked at the picture. By his interpretation it was of a boy, probably Credence, sitting at a desk with a woman standing next to it. It looked like she was making some sort of potion with her wand. It was made in pencil with the single exception being the curly, blond hair of the woman, which was golden.

It did not give him that much information. He flipped it over, and sure enough, there, in neat billowing handwriting much to elegant to have been written by Credence, it said:

" _Dear Director Graves. Credence apologizes if he made you worried. He really didn't mean to wander off anywhere, and all I will say (because it's a long story otherwise) is that he's safe and sound at The Wand Permit Office now where I'm keeping an eye on him until you can come pick him up. / Queenie Goldstein"_

He immediately recognized the name as Tina's sister.

He waved for his pocket watch, which proclaimed that it was just about time for lunch. He didn't think he could continue working, or at least not until he was sure of Credence's whereabouts, so he folded up the drawing again and put it in his pocket.

He rose and with a wave of his wand the documents on his desk arranged themselves for when he got back. Then he took his and Credence's coats (as the boy had left it in the office) and told Tocker he was going out for lunch. Though he chose to spare her the details that the boy had been momentarily missing.

He met Tina in the elevator. Or rather, they bumped into each other as he stepped in at the same time she was getting off.

"Sir!", she greeted.

"Goldstein", he replied, albeit more surprised.

"What are you doing here?", he wondered. Though he thought he already knew the answer to that question.

"I just wanted to say hi to Credence", she told him. Her gaze searched around his tailcoat, but coming up empty handed she frowned a little.

"Where's Credence?", she asked him.

"I'm just about to pick him up", he told her.

She was just about to open her mouth to ask him something when a voice sounded from behind them.

"Hey, are you going on or not…!", Red asked demanded. "You're blocking the door."

The witch and the wizard both jerked at the realization.

"Yes, sorry, I'm going down. Wand Permit Office", he said and quickly stepped inside.

Tina looked surprised but followed as he waved her inside.

"He's with your sister", he told her while Red pulled the lever to start the descent towards the Wand Permit Office.

"With  _Queenie_?", she repeated.

"I'm sure they'll explain it to us when we get there", he said. Then the elevator jerked into movement.

They made small talk about Tina's regained position and Graves' uncertainty about toys. He didn't bring up the nap time though. He thought he could figure that out on his own.

As they were walking down the hallway towards Wand Permit he stopped her.

He took a one-over of the hallway to make sure no one unnecessary would overhear, then turned back to her.

"Tina, I need to tell you, before we get there", he said lowering his voice slightly.

She, being the intelligent witch she was, listened intently as he spoke.

"The first night the obscurus appeared."

Her eyes widened slightly. Then she frowned.

"What happened?", she wondered, in the same hushed voice. She didn't sound too surprised by the news though, Percival noted. She just sounded concerned.

"He… um,  _I_  accidently brought up my house elf."

"Your house elf…?", she repeated. Then she brought up her hand to her face in realization.

"Oh dear…"

"I didn't tell him directly, but he's clever. He understood what had happened himself. Or at least enough", he told her.

"He became upset, blaming himself for what had happened. That's when it appeared."

She nodded.

"Ah, poor thing", she sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. Then she aimed her brown eyes at him.

"What happened then? Could you… handle it?", she asked, careful on how she worded it.

He nodded.

"Yeah. I wasn't sure at first, but it worked. Somehow..."

"Well, what did you do?"

"I just…", he shrugged, unsure on how to explain it.  _"Held him_. Talked to him. Let him cry for a bit. It took a while, but it sort of disappeared after that."

He looked in her eyes to see if she understood.

"Then he fell asleep..."

He noticed she had a subtle smile on her lips.

She placed her hand on his arm, squeezing it gently.

"I told you, you were the better choice", she said.

He had to huff in annoyance.

"Not this again, Tina-"

"Really though!", she interrupted him.

He let his mouth clap shut as she spoke.

"It shows how much trust he's able to put in you. He barely lets me touch him. You  _held_  him. That's an improvement, Percival."

He couldn't help but feel a bit better at the praise. She had that power, Tina.

"And about the obscurus", he asked her, "It's not new that it's appearing, is it?"

Tina nodded and they continued down the hall.

"It happened three times on the Underage magic use. Nothing serious. It didn't...  _explode_ like it used to. It was in the beginning when everything was still new and confusing. When we had to explain who Grindelwald was, the things he was responsible for..."

She took a deep breath.

"It was a hard time for him..."

They were both quite for a few moments.

"So, is he eating properly?", she asked him suddenly.

"I think he is… I'm honestly not sure how to tell…", he admitted to the witch.

"But he's eating?" The tone she was using didn't leave any room for hesitation.

"Yes, he's eating", he assured her. An unspoken  _ma'am_  in his head.

She smiled.

"That's good to hear."

* * *

The Wand Permit Office was the same as he remembered it.

The constant, although quiet, scuttering of rat memos running in the pipes running along the ceiling. The floorspace being dominated by desks cluttered with piles of applications, and cupboards, presumably filled with even more applications.

The workspace Tina had been demoted to; and absolutely despised knowing her abilities were suited for something more. The place where her sister still worked.

They didn't have to look for long to find them. After all, the place was rather small. The sign in the roof was of good help as well.

Tina's sister, Queenie, was sitting by a desk, scribbling on something with a quill. Credence was sitting across from her, probably drawing.

It was Queenie who noticed their presence first.

"Teenie?", was the first thing she said, her tone surprised, but pleasantly so. Credence immediately looked up.

"And, Mr Percival", she continued, not as surprised.

"Hello, miss Goldstein", the Director said.

She laughed, a pretty laugh.

"Oh, you can call me Queenie", she told him.

While she talked Credence slipped off his chair and ran up to them. His eyes wide and urgent.

"Credence!", Percival greeted. He brushed him through the hair as he came up to him and clung to his leg.

"Did you get lost before?"

Credence didn't answer. Instead his mouth had formed a troubled line and he was tugging at Graves' coat sleeve.

"Mr Percival…", he whispered.

Not knowing what he wanted the Director glanced at both witches. Tina looked as confused as him, and Queenie was smiling at the two of them. Figuring Credence might want some kind of confirmation he wasn't upset with him he picked the boy up.

"What is it?", he wondered.

Credence immediately looked more pleased, although his wide eyed look was still there.

The boy hesitated a moment, but then leaned in towards the wizard, putting his hands in a cup against the wizard's ear.

The Director didn't know how many years it had been since he was in this position, but he obliged in participating in the  _much_ secretive mean of communication; trying not to squirm too much as Credence's breath tickled his ear.

The boy whispered into his ear:  
" _Mr Percival, that lady can read minds…!_ "

Graves immediately got why the boy had been so restless.

He leaned out, a smile on his face. Credence looked as astonished as before sharing this information.

Queenie giggled from over the desk and Credence looked her, blushing a little; aware of that she knew what he had told the Director.

"Yes, Credence, she can", Graves agreed.

He looked at the blonde.

"I am well aware of it."

Queenie blinked at him. There had been a few meetings regarding her, and other legilimens', ability over the years.

Credence seemed to be further amazed over this fact.

"Hi Credence", Tina said from next to them.

"Hi, Miss Tina", the boy responded.

Then he was quiet for a moment.

"I was actually wondering that too", Queenie suddenly said from over the desk, no doubt having heard Credence wondering the same. Whatever  _the same_  was.

"Pardon?", Tina said.

"What you're doing here", Queenie clarified.

"Oh", Tina said.  
"The Director and I ran into each just now", she explained.

"And since he was heading here I figured you and I could go eat lunch. If you want to..."

Queenie hummed, the slightest hint of disbelief in her tone. Though she didn't linger on it.

Graves adjusted his hold on the boy.

"I can't thank you enough", he told the younger of the sisters.

"I guess I owe both of you dinner now...", he said looking between the two.

They both laughed.

"Oh, he hasn't been any trouble, sir!", Queenie said.

"He's been lovely company", she added, then giggled as Credence blushed again.

"He's so polite!", she gushed.

"That's good to hear", Graves said and smiled at the boy.

"Now, could you please tell me how you ended up here?"

Credence looked at him with his big brown eyes. Then he looked down.

"That man was still there when I came back, I asked… um…"

"Tocker?"

"Yes... And so I figured I could take a walk around the floor and come back a little later. But the corridors didn't go around like I thought…", he told him.

"I found an elevator and asked the them to take me to the entrance, because I thought I knew the way back from there."

He started fiddling with Graves' vest buttons. Seemingly unaware of it.

"He didn't…", Queenie filled in.  
"I, um, thought it would be better if he came with me than to try finding his way back himself..."

"No, I think that was a good idea, actually", Graves said before the blonde could apologize about her decision.

He really should have informed Credence of the irregular layout of the corridors in the building before sending him off on his own. The limits of architecture had apparently never been an issue to the original architects. Anyone could get lost in there; you could even end up on another floor if you tried hard enough.

"Seems you've had more fun here than you did in my office", he said, looking at the boy.

"I've been drawing", Credence said. He didn't make any attempt to disagree though; which the Director took care to note.

"Did you draw that picture I got?", he wondered. And as he said it the drawing came out of his pocket to unfold itself in the air. Tina walked up to look at it over his shoulder.

Credence hummed in agreement. As he did he rested his head against the man's shoulder. The boy seemed to be unaware of this as well.

"Is that Queenie?", Tina asked him.

Credence hummed again and Graves could feel his little head move as he nodded.  
"She's making coffee", he then said.

_So it wasn't a potion_ , Graves thought to himself.

"It seems to be very accurate in that case", he chuckled.

"I can make some if you'd like", Queenie perked up from the desk.

The Director thought for a moment. He hadn't actually had any since that morning.

"Is it okay to wait a little longer before we go have lunch?", he asked Credence.

The boy shrugged.  
"I don't mind."

"Then, yes please", the Director told the blonde.

"Coming right up", she said. Then adding:  
"I'll get one for you too, Tina", before rising from the desk and disappearing amongst the desk.

"Thanks Queenie", the auror called after her.

Meanwhile Graves pocketed the drawing again.

"So you've been working from the office today, sir?", Tina asked.

"Yes", he replied.

"For the afternoon as well?", she wondered.

"No", he said.

"I need to attend a meeting at two though. I can't just do paperwork all day..."

He knew the witch wasn't trying to make simple small-talk. She was wondering the same thing he had been all weekend...

"Don't really know what to do about this one, though", he admitted and hitched up the boy a little further on his arm.

Because, although he'd surely manage to get permission through the President herself, there were more than enough topics that weren't suited for small ears.

And the auror next to him was surely aware of this.

Credence, being completely oblivious about this, said timidly:  
"I can be quiet, Mr Percival."

The wizard smiled.

"Yes, I'm sure you can, little guy. The thing is it wouldn't be fair for you to just sit and listen to us talk for two hours."

The last part actually made Credence pale.

"You said at two?", Tina asked him.

He nodded, already knowing what she was thinking.

And sure enough, she frowned.

"I'm still out on my rounds by then..."

"I know, Tina. But I wasn't asking-" He didn't get any further before he was interrupted.

"I could babysit!"

The whole company turned their heads at the same time to see Queenie come around the corner smiling vibrantly at them over the coffee tray.

Graves was slightly at loss, but Tina didn't waste any time speaking.

" _Queenie_?"

"Oh, I think it's a great idea, Teenie", the witch said as she took out her wand, then with a quick," _Locomotor_ ", made the coffee potstart pouring itself.

Graves finally found his tongue at that.

"Oh, Miss Goldstein, I  _can't_ ask you to do that…"

" _Queenie_ ", she corrected him.

"And do you take with cream?"

"Er, just black is fine", he said and set Credence down on the ground. He could feel the boy's hands take a hold of his tail coat as he listened to the adult's conversation.

"But really, you don't have to", Graves tried again.

"I was going to ask the witches at Underage Magic Use if they could keep an eye on him."

"But I'd love to do it!", she said and sent him the steaming cup through the air. The Director caught it easily.

"But what about your work, Queenie…?", Tina reminded.

Her sister made a dismissive wave with her hand.

"Tina, you know how ' _busy'_  it gets around here", she said, complete with air quotes.

"It actually get's kind of lonely...", she added with a fake pout.

"Oh, don't be so boring Tina!", she then laughed as the older gave her a berating look, no doubt scolding her in her thoughts.

Graves suspected the auror didn't want her sister to goof around in front of him.

He couldn't say he minded it though. And neither did Credence.

It was obvious he was entranced by the behavior of both women by how he was watching them from next to the wizard. The communication that consisted solely on facial expressions on one side.

(If he hadn't been their boss he would have thought it was rather entertaining.)

Credence seemed far happier in their presence than he had been with Patricia, the witch at the office of Underage Magic Use.

As the wizard thought back on that Friday he actually started doubting his previous plan of action. They had said they would help if he needed anything, but did the witches at Underage Magic Use want to watch the obscurial? He obviously couldn't vouch for the other witches and wizards working there, but Patricia's reaction hadn't been promising. How she had just  _stood_  there when he cried…

Tina's sister on the other hand was the  _literal_ definition of empathy. She could read minds. And she was  _Tina's sister_!

And since she seemed so eager to…

He reached out and ran a hand through the boy's hair, making the boy look up.

"What do you think, Credence?", the wizard asked.

The witches looked over as well, equally as curious for the answer.

Credence must have gotten self-conscious over the sudden attention because he moved a little closer to the man's leg. His eyes passing from Graves to the witches and back again.

"You want to spend the afternoon with Queenie? While I go to my meeting", Graves continued.

However, Queenie was already smiling, so the thousand dragotquestion wasn't hard to foresee.

"If it isn't too much trouble…", Credence said.

Queenie made a happy little squeak, but she stayed composed. Even though it was clear she was restraining herself from jumping up and down. Or whatever witches did when they were happy.

Next to Queenie Tina shrugged. She clearly wasn't against the idea. Actually, she had a slight smirk on her lips.

"I said it before, honey: You're no trouble at all!", the blonde chimed.

"Should we say quarter to two?", Graves wondered.

Queenie smiled, if possibly, brighter.

"Yes!", she said with a clap of her hands.

Immediately Tina elbowed the younger in the side; even if she tried being discreet by sipping her coffee.

Queenie sobered up, or at least tried to, and said with a nod:

"Sounds great. Sir." Though the smile she was trying to supress destroyed the business-like attempt.

"Great", Graves agreed.

"Right, Credence?", he asked the boy.

The boy nodded.

"Then quarter to two it is", Graves decided.

He finished his coffee, then the two had to leave because Percival's lunch break did have a limit; and Tocker would get nervous if he didn't get back on time.

* * *

"Where is the obscurial?"

"Good afternoon to you, too, Madame President."

The witch sent him a  _no-nonsense_  look, as usual, as she seated herself at the head of the table.

He sighed gently at the failed attempt at humouring her, but sat down himself with the other attending wizards and witches (who had all stood up when Picquery walked in).

"The boy is at the Wand Permit Office."

She briefly glanced up from her scroll.

"I thought Goldstein was relocated."

He thought the fact that she wasn't questioning this was a good sign.

"No, it's actually her sister", he said.

"The legilimens?"

He nodded.

" _Queenie_ ", he heard himself correct.

"We're trying it for today", he continued. But before he could divulge on the potential problems of this plan (considering it wasn't Queenie's job to watch MACUSA's children) the president said, without looking at him:

"Whatever you think works best, Director."

The wizard blinked. He had expected her to demand some kind of motivation of his choices.

After all, she did everytime else.

His confused pause in conversation must have spoken for itself because she looked up and added matter-of-factly:

"He's your responsibility, Graves."

Then she looked at her scroll again.

"You signed the papers."

He was quiet for another moment. Just to let this information sink in.

Because it sounded  _very much_  like Picquery's was planning for this to be permanent, considering she was giving him free reigns.

And he didn't know what to think about that.

He felt like that was a discussion for another time though, considering almost everyone had gotten seated and were waiting for the meeting to commence.

"You still want me to send you reports on the obscurus?", he asked.

" _Of course_ ", she replied.

"We need them for documentation."

Then she straightened in her seat and said in a louder voice to the assembled witches and wizards at the table, effectively ending their private conversation:

"Let's get started, we have a lot to cover before Christmas."

It was a productive two hours. Despite that Graves knew he wasn't as focused as he should have been. When it wasn't his turn to speak his thoughts kept drifting elsewhere.

What was the boy doing right now? Was he hungry? Credence had eaten all his lunch, but the wizard hadn't really figured out the metabolic rate of children yet.

Maybe he should have brought the fruit basket with them when he dropped the boy off.

_And on the topic of food_ : What were they supposed to eat for dinner tonight? And he had to order some more groceries.

He almost laughed at himself when that crossed his mind.

He didn't think he'd ever sound so domestic.

A sharp look from Picquery scattered his musings, however.

* * *

"Did you have fun with Queenie?", the wizard asked as they walked down the steps of the Woolworth building. Briefcase in one hand, boy in the other.

"Miss Queenie is nice", Credence said. "Just like Miss Tina."

Tina would surely be happy to hear that. Even if it didn't answer the question.

He didn't except the answer to be anything other than  _yes_ , though. The boy had been so excited when he had come to pick him up. He had had another drawing for him.

"We tried playing hide and seek, but it didn't really work, because Miss Queenie knew where I was before she finished counting. And we couldn't do it the other way around because she's too big to hide under the desks."

"But then she made a rat. She made it run away to hide, then we both looked for it."

Graves had to glance around to make sure the boy's words hadn't caught any nomaj's attention. It wasn't everyday women  _made_  rats.

Luckily nobody seemed to pay any attention to them.

Perhaps it was Credence's age. After all, children usually said strange things.

Still, they would have to have a talk about that when they got home.

"Like a competition?", the wizard wondered.

Credence thought for a moment.

Then he nodded.

"Who won?", Graves asked.

"We didn't keep count", the boy told him.

"But", he continued,"I think I won."

Graves chuckled.

"You just need a pipe and you'll be ready for business", the wizard told him.

Credence was quiet for a moment.

"But, Mr Percival… I don't smoke..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone is confused: Graves is making a reference to the Pied Piper of Hamelin, cuz you know, rats.
> 
> (And I just realized, did Graves pull a Dad-joke? :P )


End file.
